Rebirth
by keroberus
Summary: Éowyn has survived death and the Witch King but despairs as there is nothing left for her in life. This is Éowyn's journey from the darkness of the Black Breath to her coronation as Princess of Ithillien and beyond.
1. Out of Darkness

When I first thought about writing my version of this, I was in my adolescence and I didn't have the patience to write it. And then many many many years later, when I saw it all played out through the trilogies. It has promoted a deep respect for Kiwis in me. But Éowyn and Faramir's screen time was a little short even in the extended DVD version, for die hard Éowyn/Faramir fans such as myself….which prompted a rewrite of my old ideas. I typed it out in the wee hours of the morning for several weeks without much sleep. But here it is. I post this for my own benefit really and ask for nothing in return.

But you scarce few who are also surfing the Web at ungodly hours, do please take the time to read and review.

–Kero.

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Chapter 1: Out of Darkness

"Your father is dead, child. Go to him now, and pay your respects." Her mother's hollow words rang through her ears. She looked up at her older brother and saw that he was trying hard not to cry. The tears glistened and brimmed, welling up so that they nearly fell from her eyes.

_Dead? What is death?_ she asked herself.

_Death is darkness and pain,_ hissed a voice. The voice was raspy and cruel, and hollow like a grave. The sound of hit wrapped cold fingers around her heart. Was this voice in her mind? Did her mother and brother hear it? Suddenly the images of her family swirled into a whirlpool of light swallowed into shadow and all was dark.

_Death is all that awaits you now. There is nothing left…only despair_. The cold, dead voice was unfeeling and entirely unsympathetic. _They will all leave you, in the end…._

Then she found herself in a dimly lit room, where the candles flickered with the movements of those who drew near to the light. Women were sobbing by the still figure of a woman, lying very still in a large bed amid rich furs. The body of the woman was draped in a gauzy shift from head to toe. The hem of the woman's velvet gown peered out from under the veil. But Éowyn could see her face through the thin linen. She looked upon the face of her dead mother, somber and beautiful in her repose. The sister of King Théoden was a renowned beauty in her day, but this beautiful face was also lined with grief and sorrow even as it was held by death. Éowyn tried to cry, but no tears came. Her mother's death was sudden and unexpected, just like her father's. It was almost too much to bear, and she was incapable of shedding tears due to the shock of realizing she was an orphan, but not from a lack of sorrow. Her heart wrenched with grief and pity, and also remorse for not being able to do more for her mother when she was alive.

Again, the scenery changed in a swirl of light that was unsettling, but this time, a flash of lightning blinded her momentarily, and she was taken aback by the foul wind that hit her full in the face. It was so oppressive she felt like choking. The sky was dark and grim, and thunderous clouds ominously loomed in all directions of the horizon while lightning flickered and colored the clouds bright silver and steely gray. She felt as though her heart had stopped and her blood had chilled. Silent terror rose in her throat as the tall, heavily armored figure in a black hooded cloak stood menacingly before her. The monster was tall, and the mace it held seemed to grow in size as the dark figure rose from the dead winged creature she had just slain. The head and the carcass of the winged dragon were on either side of her, smeeling heavily of foul blood and still twitching, ever so slightly.

In her mind, she could still hear that foul winged beast with the bone shattering cry. Its shriek alone made her face turn ashen white and she had hacked the creature's neck in twain in a desperate attempt to do anything to make it stop. Its black blood still flowed from the neck and the detached head, polluting the ground with a bubbling black puddle at her feet.

But now, a more formidable foe stood before her; the Witch King of Angmar. For this was one of the accursed; a Nazgûl. Somehow she knew this Nazgûl the minute she saw it. It was larger than any man, and wore a cruel crown of metal spikes. Surely, it was he. The main ghoul in the stories meant to scare children; the very essence of nightmares. It was the faceless menace who had haunted the edge of her dreams while she slept underneath the roof of the Golden Hall. She had heard of this monster from foreign travelers passing through Rohan, escaping the terror of Sauron. Once a king of men, but blinded by hate and fear he became Sauron's minion. His very presence disturbed her being--disturbed the core of her very soul. She knew it had the malice to peel her flesh from her bones and he would feed her soul to the monsters Sauron kept in his dark tower. There was nothing to stand in his way now, but Éowyn. She wanted to run, but her feet would not move. Desperately, she cursed her body, trying to will it to move. For the first time in her life, she felt numb with fear. Naked fright seared through her brain and made her tremble from head to foot. Éowyn broke into a cold sweat.

The hooded figure stepped over to her, raising its morning star mace to ready a swing. _I am going to die, _she thought to herself. Suddenly, the fear left her at this final realization. She stood still, ready to take the fatal blow.

_Yes, die now. Die now and join your loved ones…_said a voice in the wind. It was spiteful, and snakelike, much like the voice of Grima Wormtongue, and the words wrapped tightly around her heart like a noose. The mace went into full swing in a sudden rush, and she raised her shield arm to defend herself. Then all went dark and there was nothing but pain. Intense pain shot up through her arm and her shoulder and into the rest of her body and it blinded her. It hurt to breathe. Her lungs seemed to tighten, and her throat felt constricted as if she were suddenly drowning in her pain.

_Your mother and father are dead. Your uncle's lifeless body remains rotting beneath his useless horse. A warrior indeed! A fine day when the men of Rohan are killed by their own beloved horses! Your brother lays on the battlefield torn to pieces by orcs, his body scattered across the plain. There is nothing now but for you to die,_ said the voice.

_No! Éomer would not die. He is brave and strong, unlike me. He will come back_, insisted Éowyn.

_But he is dead,_ hissed the voice. In the murky light she thought she saw her brother's dead face, disembodied from his corpse. She tried to scream but could not find her voice. The horror she felt was unbearable.

_Yes, they are dead. And now you must die_, it whispered.

_Yes,_ she thought. _I must die. I have failed to protect them. I hope they are not cross with me for coming to fight. But it has all come to naught…_

_Deserter!_ said the voice. _You are a deserter. You are a selfish girl who failed miserably in her attempt to gain honor and renown in battle. You have no honor now. Your body is being hacked to pieces by orcs even as you sleep. You are a shameful wretch, and you will die in the shadows, just as you lived…_

_I deserve to die, then, _said Éowyn, thoroughly convinced of her own wretchedness. She began to feel her life flow out of her body, being sucked into some other worldly void, and she despaired. She did not want to die like this and her heart wept for Death was so cold and lonely. She realized that there was no glory at all in dying like this.

_Éowyn, harken to my voice._

Whose voice was this? So warm and so familiar.

_My Lord Aragorn? _Her thoughts sounded hollow as if they echoed in a great empty chasm. Her despair doubled at the thought of never seeing him again.

_Éowyn, hear me. Let my voice lead you away from here…away from darkness and grief. It is all behind you now. Follow my voice and live._

_I have nothing to live for now_, she thought sadly. _They are all dead will not return. I am all alone, now. And you will not return to me._

But he kept calling her name, and his voice was so gentle beseeching. Just hearing it brought her that hope which she had almost forgotten she could feel. His voice touched her heart.

_Follow me, Éowyn…follow me…_the voice began to fade.

_No! Lord Aragorn, do not leave me here! _She willed herself to follow the voice, as if she were slowly floating up through a dark tunnel. _Do not leave me!_

"Éowyn Eómund's daughter awake! For your enemy has passed away! Awake, Éowyn Lady of Rohan! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean!" Lord Aragorn's voice was very clear now, and she felt as though she was reaching up towards it, trying to grasp it so that it could lift her from the dark pit she had fallen into. She could no longer hear the snakelike voice that haunted her sleep.

"Éowyn! Éowyn!" shouted a voice also very near.

Whose voice was that? It was a voice she had known all of her life. _Éomer_.

Éowyn's eyes opened slowly to a blur of candlelight and dark silhouettes. Hushed voices came near and shuffled away. The air was filled with a scent she did not recognize. The scent reminded her of springtime in the Mark, on a fresh and cool day when new, green grass reached beyond the horizon. Somehow, it also reminded her of Lord Aragorn.

"Éowyn? Éowyn! Thank the gods you're awake," said her brother. Her vision cleared and she saw tears in his eyes. She was touched by his display of affection.

"Éomer. They said you were dead," said Éowyn slowly, trying to focus her eyes on her brother's face. She was so tired. "But nay, those were the voices in my head trying to trick me." She paused. "But Théoden King is dead. That was no dream. I saw our uncle die with mine own eyes." His brother's eyes confirmed what she knew in her heart.

"But he bade me to say goodbye to you, sister-daughter, who was as dear to him as any daughter of his own." Her vision blurred a little as she remembered the sight of her uncle's broken body, but she did not cry. She did not have the strength to. Her brother kissed her brow tenderly, in place of their uncle, who in many ways was like a father to both.

Her eyes then looked around to search for one who was no longer in the room. Lord Aragorn had left, but she felt certain it was he who called her back from the edge of death. Her brother, perhaps sensing her thoughts, changed the subject and called a servant to bring her water and some bread if she could stomach it.

And so, she learned in that conversation that her little companion and fellow in arms, Merry, had also survived and was in a room nearby in these Houses of Healing, as the Gondorians called them. She was relieved that he had survived. It was that Halfling's valiant effort to help her that brought her enemy to his knees so that Éowyn could smite her foe upon the field. In that brief moment when her shield arm shattered and she was brought to her knees and all seemed lost, Merry was there to aid her. He was as valiant as any rider of the Mark and Éowyn was glad she brought him along for the journey. It was Fate, certainly. She wanted to see her friend again so she could thank him.

Her brother's visit was brief, and he kissed her healed hands and left her in the care of the mindful servants in the Houses. She wanted to go with him, but there was no way her body could get out of bed, let alone stand and fight again.

Gandalf was also present, though quiet from the time she awoke. Before he left, he spoke words of comfort to Éowyn, his eyes looking through her in an understanding, grandfatherly way, then he too departed for the battle that was still being fought outside the City. Éowyn had to stay behind yet again, and her tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of it. The hope she had felt when she heard Lord Aragorn's voice while wandering in her fevered state was gone. There was no chance of her dying a glorified death now, no chance of renown as a Queen—no chance of anything; and she was deeply saddened.

_Must I now lay here as an invalid while my only kin goes with the man I love to fight the honorable fight? Why did I even bother waking? There is nothing for me here,_ she thought to herself. Bitter thoughts held her mind as she slept fitfully into the night.

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Author's note: You know, the attraction to Tokein's tale in the modern day I think stems from our childhood notions of honor and valor and adventure. Too bad we don't have the opportunities in this world to prove our mettle with sword in hand! When I was younger, I wanted to be just like her! LOL. On to the next chapter! –Kero. 


	2. Into Awakening

Note: I realized that my chapters were a bit long. Very inconvenient to take pee breaks. I broke them down separately (hope I didn't cut anything important out!), and redid the chapter titles into a poem. Please R&R. Enjoy!

--Kero (6.30.06)

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Chapter 2: Into Awakening

When the daylight finally arrived, or rather, when what was left of the morning hidden behind a dark, cloudy shadow over the sky finally came, Éowyn sat up in bed, still stiff and sore from her nigh of fitful sleep. There was a window in her room, but it faced a low wall and beyond it, stone streets and houses of the same gray-white tones. It had the eerie dreariness of a stone prison.

_I wonder if they have gone yet?_ She asked herself. Éowyn felt as though she had overslept and her head felt stuffed with straw. Though the light was dimmed by the unnatural shadow over Gondor, she knew it to be mid morning already, and her brother and Lord Aragorn would have already left. Her brother had hinted to her when at her bedside that after they saved the beseiged City, they would meet Sauron before his Black Gates. She shuddered at the thought. Still, she wanted to be with them at the end. But it would be too difficult for her to dress herself, let alone catch up with them. Again, she felt left behind and her heart ached with self-pity.

A middle-aged woman shuffled into the room. She curtsied towards Éowyn and brought a water pitcher and basin with fresh towels to the table. Her soft steps were a comfort to Éowyn, as they reminded her of a kindly nurse who used to care for her when she was a child. Éowyn watched the woman take away the dirty towels and bowls, and bring in a fresh bowl of something that was pleasantly fragrant. It was the same scent that brought her out of her fevered dreaming that night when Lord Aragorn had healed her body with some mysterious power in his hands. The smell of it cast aside her self-pity and depression. Its fragrance reminded her of happier times in her childhood.

"What is in that water bowl there?" asked Éowyn softly.

"'Tis kingsfoil, milady, or _athelas_, as the herb masters call it."

"I see. The Lord Aragorn used it to heal me." Éowyn pursed her lips thoughtfully. "What is your name, then?"

"I am Ranna, a servant in the Houses of Healing," the woman said gently.

"Will you be attending me?"

"Aye, milady, with several others. The Lord who healed thee bid us care for thee well. The Warden of the Houses has kept a close watch on thee. For it is known throughout the City that you are a woman of renown and honor. They told us that you slayed the Witch King." She said the last sentence in an excited whisper. The look on Ranna's face glowed with amazement.

"Oh I see," said Éowyn quietly. "Am I already famous?" Éowyn sat back on her pillows. Her thoughts of her enemy made her cold again, and she pulled the blankets up closer to her. The foe was formidable and she knew it for the Lord of the Nazgûl by the thorny crown upon its head; the Witch King of Angmar had fallen before her. The one whom "no man could kill." Éowyn laughed ruefully at the irony. Now, she was faced with the reality of living through the experience, and having to confront what path lay before her now. Would she should die here in a foreign city defending herself till her last breath or will she survive this war to end all wars? Truthfully, she felt in her heart that they were all going to be trampled beneath such formidable odds. Éowyn fell silent and looked out the window. _There was nothing for me in life that I wanted to go back to. Why did I come back?_

"I cannot see the Eastern border from here," she sighed. "Only streets." She felt trapped by the stone walls of the Houses.

Perhaps Ranna saw the look on her face and felt that she should do something about it, for it was true that Ranna, though having no children of her own, was very motherly towards those she came upon.

"If it please you, milady, your friend, Master Meriadoc is nearby. Shall I call him to you?"

"Yes. Please do. I would like that very much," said Éowyn eagerly.

Éowyn was pleased when she saw Merry again. They were fellows in arms and fast friends. She was glad to see a familiar face again, but disappointed when he told her that it had already been a few days since her brother and Lord Aragorn left the City. Éowyn had actually been sleeping for two days after Lord Aragorn had visited her and the healers had treated her shattered arm. Ranna exclaimed that the lady was grown thin from her lack of nourishment but Éowyn would not have Ranna feed her and so fed herself some porridge as Merry kept her company. They spoke awhile, and Merry entertained her by explaining all the admirable traits of pipeweed when Ranna finally politely ushered him out because the Warden instructed them all to take care of the Lady Éowyn and she was not to leave her bed for seven days yet, nor was she to be disturbed for long periods at a time. Éowyn was very distraught at that idea.

"Cannot you do anything about such a stern order? The Warden does not need to know my affairs," sulked Éowyn.

"Nay, milady. Those are the strictest of orders from the Lord that healed you. You were touched by the Black Breath and seldom do men come back from that, let alone walk about and do as they please as if nothing had happened." Ranna's face had grown stern. Éowyn almost smiled at the fact that Ranna so resembled the nurse she had from long ago, when her mother was still living.

"I must speak to the Warden then. He will hear me out, even if I have to force him to listen to me," said Éowyn with a grunt. "I want to get dressed," she declared to Ranna and her otherwise empty chamber. At that, Ranna knew that the lady could not be gainsaid, and went to fetch others to help in the task. Three other women came into the room, armed with linens, clay pots and other bundles that Éowyn could not discern. They applied a soothing balm over the places where she had been badly bruised or cut and wrapped gauze to cover the areas. Much of her body was healed in a very short amount of time by Aragorn himself, but there were some lingering ailments. They wrapped linens around her slender neck to keep the wounds there clean and untouched. She did not recall when she was caused to be wounded there, but she assumed that the cuts on her head and neck were caused by flying splints from her wooden shield that shattered when Éowyn tried to defend herself against the Witch King's mace.

When they wanted to dress her as well she bluntly refused and told them that she could dress herself. The servants exchanged troubled glances but did as they were told and left the room. Ranna stayed behind only to help Éowyn gingerly drape the white shift over her head. Then she stepped aside and watched as Éowyn spent the next half hour putting the rest of the Gondorian undergarments on and getting into the white linen dress the servants picked for her. The White Lady of Rohan looked at her reflection in the water basin and saw a porcelain pale face with blue eyes staring back at her. They had washed her hair earlier while she was resting and it cascaded down one side in shiny waves of gold. She did not look wild and unruly now, though she was certain she did look so when she was on the battlefield, and wondered what the people of such a refined country would think of this northern shield maiden dressed in a white Gondorian dress.

Certainly these women must have heard something of her title. Éowyn could not recall who was the first to call her the White Lady. Since she came of age, her duties were bound to the Great Hall and oftentimes out of boredom or frustration she would go outside to top of the main stairs and watch the wind play upon the plain below, or look up to the mountain range. Éowyn preferred the color white because it was pure and emotionless, and she would stand there against the wind and the world, wishing she were elsewhere. Many who saw her called her the White Lady. Éowyn wondered if Gondorians had ever heard of her.

"I shall not be a complete embarrassment to my House, shall I?" she asked herself doubtfully. She did not notice Ranna's efforts to stifle a smile. Éowyn was about to leave the room barefoot when Ranna reminded her to put on her soft, fur-lined black leather slippers, and a gray cloak for warmth. Éowyn smiled and thanked her and went on her way. She was told that the Warden was in his office down the hall and the other servants could not help but stare as she walked past but no one dared stop her from going there. In the dark halls she stood out like a golden haired ghost amongst the darker haired Gondorians. Éowyn wondered what they all thought of her, this wild woman from the north who was obviously so stubborn and proud to be out of bed, despite her slight limp. Did she seem like a hero to them?

_More like a bother,_ she thought. _Or an oddity._

Éowyn found the Warden exactly where they said he would be but he was firm, yet polite, about Lord Aragorn's orders. Her diplomatic talents left her then, and she resorted to grimly staring down the Warden eye to eye. The Warden sighed and responded that truly the charge of the wounded belonged to the Houses of Healing, but the Houses like any other establishment in the City was governed by the Steward. He suggested that she should appeal her case to him. Éowyn gave him a curt nod and followed him out of the office and into the garden, where she was told the Steward was to be found; for he was also recuperating from his latest wounds and maladies. He had been shot with a poison dart of the Haradrim, the Easterlings who served Sauron and was just now able to walk about.

When Éowyn first saw the Steward, she was taken aback at his appearance. She was half expecting some old man with a large belly dressed in rich robes but the Warden pointed her to a tall, lean man with long raven hair who was much younger than she expected. He was dressed in a velvet, black tunic with simple silver embroidery that hung down to his knees over a comfortable white cotton shirt. As Éowyn approached, she could tell that he had been hurt, for his face seemed unnaturally pale and little gaunt, as though he too had been near Death for days. When he turned to face her, his blue-gray eyes were a feature she could not avoid noticing. They were stunning and so very clearly defined. When she finally came to address him, she was suddenly timid about maintaining his gaze, for Éowyn had never seen such eyes. They seemed capable of seeing right into her very soul but at the same time were tender and understanding.

But, Éowyn was determined to have her way. She wondered what the Warden as thinking about his two charges as he left them in the garden; these two dignified people of pale pallor who were obviously in need of bed rest but insistent upon walking about, heedless of their hurts.

However, getting her way proved to be more difficult than she hoped. Though young, this Steward had all the authority of a king and leader. The way he moved, the way he spoke, everything about him was regal. Suddenly, Éowyn felt like a country goat herder asking a noble lord for a favor. The words he spoke were gentle and wise, and she knew he would not be moved by her persistence, though understanding was abundant in his eyes. He too was bound to the Houses, though he would have gone out with Lord Aragorn if he could. Éowyn knew almost immediately that her endeavor would be fruitless, but her pride would not yield.

"I cannot let you leave the Houses of Healing, lady. I hear that you were hurt as badly as I, if not worse, and even now I lack my full strength to even stand. I will not let you leave here and throw your life away," he said gently.

"My life is worth nothing, now, if I do not go. I am meant to be there in battle with my brother," she said sternly.

"Are you so eager to die?" asked Faramir, not understanding her need to throw her life away. "Can I not persuade you otherwise?"

His voice was even and almost melodic, and it seemed to calm her with every rational and logical explanation he uttered. This man before her was well-read and a thinker, someone she was not used to confronting. By the way he chose his words, she could tell that this was a diplomatic gentleman who knew the world well and even suffered in it, perhaps, but through it all he remained kind, whatever life he had led thus far.

Éowyn knew enough of warriors, being raised among them, to see that this was a man who could not be outmatched by any rider in the Mark; perhaps even her brother Eómer. It was strange for her to find a warrior that was so gentle and refined in demeanor. She let her guard down and her countenance fall and furrowed her brows and wondered how to make a graceful exit before such a noble lord who had clearly put her in her place. Out of regret and wounded pride, hot tears rolled down her flushed cheeks and Éowyn was a mortified that she should cry now of all times in front of a stranger. As a consolation, the Steward allowed her to change her room to one that faced East, and she was allowed to roam about the Houses as she pleased.

And then he said something that she did not expect, words which caught her off guard.

"If I may say, my lady, you are most fair." He looked at her rather shyly as he said it, but he did not drop his gaze. Éowyn could feel the color in her cheeks.

"I hope that I can see more of you here in the Houses, for your fairness is like the sun against these colorless walls. Please come and walk with me sometime. I would want for nothing if I had your company." His words were so gracefully poetic. Those words wistfully reminded her of tales sung in her uncle's hall of handsome heroes who wooed maids with beautiful songs. It would be difficult to find a warrior in Rohan to say such things to a woman. She could not help but blush. How could she possibly be beautiful while wrapped in all her bandages?

His eyes seemed to unveil her sorrow and distress that she had been trying so desperately to hide. Yet the pity in his eyes greatly unnerved her for she desired no man's pity. Éowyn gracefully took her leave of the Lord Faramir that day, but as she walked back into the Houses it was not the Eastern border she was pondering but a pair of blue-gray eyes filled with pity and something else she did not understand.

Throughout that afternoon, Éowyn purposefully did not go into the gardens, though his invitation was still standing. She instead went with Ranna to the herbalists in the Houses, who spent nearly the rest of the day entertaining her by telling her all about Gondorian herb lore. But when she saw the sick chamber that contained many Rohan soldiers, she suddenly thought of her uncle. They told her that he was lying in state in the great hall of the City where Gondorian and Rohirrim honor guards kept vigil. But she did not want to see him. Her eyes welled up with tears and she remembered the words her uncle said to her before they parted as liege lord-king and lady-niece ath the Rohirrim encampment. He was kind but firm about leaving her behind, as if he had sensed that she would try to come after them.

Her duty, he said, was to her people and she would better serve him and them by staying behind so that there was someone to lead them in their time of little hope. If he and her brother were destined to never return then it was up to Éowyn to defend the people for a last stand and die with her sword raised defending the elderly, the women and the children should that time come; and if she should live through another seige upon Helm's Deep then she was to continue the blood line. She knew very well that this was her duty. This was what her family would want her to do, what she has been trained to do. All her years of quiet tutoring and studying the ways and the lore of her homeland, the craft of attack and self-defense, the ways of riding and fighting had led to this.

But alas, she could not do it. Éowyn could not be left behind. Not again. She would not stay back while the ones she loved went face forward into a willing death and left her alone in dreaded silence. When she disguised herself as Dernhelm she was determined that never again would she be left behind if she could help it. Her choice was to defend her people as the men of her country defended it. This was what she had told Gehric, her uncle's eldest councilor, when she left. She gave him the authority to rule in her stead. If she had to die, she said, she would rather it be on her terms.

Her eyes welled up in tears again, spilling over and down her cheeks as she was helping the wounded Rohirrim change their bandages. The men gratefully accepted her ministries and thanked her kindly, though most were surprised to see her. But after a few hours of tending the wounded, the smell of dying and blood overcame her, and she departed for the open air of the gardens. With the Warden's permission, Éowyn helped Ranna and some other servants strip bandages and fold linens and bedding. She scorned herself for being so weak, but the thought of the battlefield was still too near for her. Her brother was right. The battlefield is a terrifying place to be. She would go back to the sick ward, perhaps, when she felt stronger. She passed by the empty gardens on her way to load a basket full of supplies.

On her way back, the first thing she noticed was that there was someone standing near the eastern wall. Lord Faramir was looking towards the border as he sat alongside the rim of a stone fountain with sprays of water falling beside him in graceful arcs. Though she could not see his face clearly, she knew that it was stern and grim, and those stunning eyes were trying to discern or comprehend something, and for the first time since waking, Éowyn felt pity for someone other than herself. The first thing she decided was that she would not go to him. She did not think either of them could give the other much comfort at a time like this, and so resorted to quietly moving towards another part of the wall in the garden which also faced East, but her presence was hidden by a sturdy bush with many branches. She hoped that he would not see her and he did not. Éowyn took a gloomy look at the foreboding eastern horizon, with its jagged peaks stabbing into the reddish glow hovering over the Black Land. Quietly, she gave the supplies to Ranna and then returned to her new chamber that the Warden picked out for her, now with windows facing East.


	3. I Stand On the Precipice

Chapter 3: I Stand On the Precipice

The next morning, Éowyn woke early, dressed herself and left her chamber before Ranna entered to tend to her. The bandages were still very secure on her shield arm as she walked out into the morning air dressed in a pale linen gown that Ranna had laid out for her the night before, as the blue one was stained from tending the wounded the previous day. The bandages on her neck had been removed the previous night since the salve the healers used had closed those wounds completely. Her golden hair had been brushed earlier last evening, and it fell freely around her shoulders. There was no one about and before Ranna and the others came in to fuss over her, Éowyn went directly to the Eastern wall and looked into the gloom. Her stomach was uneasy, and her palms grew cold as she thought about what her brother was doing, and whether or not he was still alive. The last thought made her pull her fur lined cloak closer to her.

Early risers who walked past the Houses of Healing were bewildered and slightly calmed by the sight of the White Lady of Rohan standing on the wall, pale golden hair catching whatever light there was with the dawn. They had heard she slew the Witch King of Angmar, and that she was a valiant heart. Surely, with such a lady in their City, they could make a stand against evil and darkness, should that time come.

Éowyn looked up at the sky and prayed to the guardian gods that her people believed in. The Rohirrim had been a wandering people, though their bloodlines could be traced to ancestral beginnings with the _Atani_. However, their histories were sung and not written until recently in her grandfather's day. Unlike the Elves and Gondorians, they were not necessarily believers in the _Valar_, though they all knew there were powerful forces that moved Middle Earth and their fates. Her people had names for the natural forces of the earth, and named these gods in their own tongue.

The wind blew a clearing in the cloudiness that hung above the city, and she felt some warmth touch her skin standing amid a single ray of light. Éowyn hoped that this ray would linger for a while and keep her company. It had been long since she felt the sunlight on her skin and in her golden hair. The light, along with the fresh morning air that smelled of grass and dew filled her lungs and renewed her spirit. She was lost in the silence of that moment and did not realize that she was no longer alone in the gardens.

"My Lady, will you not come down? The Warden would be fretting if he saw you so high aloft, though your brilliance in the sunlight is fair to behold and I would have you stand there longer in radiance for my own enjoyment," said the voice of Lord Faramir from a ways behind her. She came back from her silent reverie and looked behind to see Lord Faramir dressed exactly as she had seen him yesterday, with a simple and somewhat endearing smile on his face. Éowyn followed the steps down from the wall and grudgingly went over to him. She wondered at what she should say and whether she should now take her leave.

_That would be rude,_ she thought to herself. _I do not desire his company, or the company of any other person, and yet…I cannot willingly bring myself to leave so suddenly, he is the Steward after all. _She reasoned that this logical course of action was out of diplomacy between two allied countries, as opposed to any curiosity towards the man on her part.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, rather sheepishly. He did not meet her gaze this time.

"Aye, I thank you," she responded, and in her own opinion rather dully. This was followed by an awkward silence. But to her relief, he started to speak again.

He spoke mostly of trifling things, like the way she appeared to be on the mend, and sarcastically commented on how flavorful the morning porridge seemed to him today as if he was purposefully diverting her attention from the gloomy Eastern horizon. His voice was soothing and though she did not really pay attention to his words, the sound of his voice was a comfort and she decided this was better than being alone. What she liked about Lord Faramir was that he did not force himself to speak. This was unlike Rohirrim warriors who would, in front of a lady, attempt some boasting, and talk in a loud voice and heartily laugh in merriment at everything the lady said. Lord Faramir spoke whatever was on his mind but then would fall silent for lengths of time when he had nothing further to say. It was as if he was subtly and gently inviting her to converse with him without asking her to do so. And she did not resist. Éowyn knew then that they could at least be friends at a time such as this, which made her feel more at ease in his presence.

From their conversation throughout the day, for they also took their noon meal together in the garden, Éowyn discovered may things about Lord Faramir. He was twelve years her senior, and he was the second son of the late Steward, of a bloodline that was direct from Númenor, and next in line for the Stewardship as his brother had died recently on a quest that was mostly a mystery to him. Numenorians, she learned, had long life lines long ago. Not so much now, in contemporary times, but Faramir's family tree had a few long living members. Though obviously her senior in years, he did not look much older than she.

She saw in his eyes that he was still grieving for the loss of his brother. Éowyn understood that he had looked up to Boromir, just as she looked up to Eómer. Though he did not say it, she gathered that Lord Faramir was not his father's favorite. And yet, Faramir loved them both. The sudden death of his father greatly troubled him and for a long moment he was silent when he mentioned his father's recent passing, as he slowly swallowed the lump which she knew had caught in his throat. She then understood that though she had often wished she was born male, it was difficult being a man as men are seldom allowed to shed visible tears for loved ones lost out of fear for being seen as weak. Éowyn suddenly felt grateful that she had noisily cried herself dry the previous night in the company of the darkness so that Faramir would not see her openly cry again.

But she also felt sorrow on his behalf that this War had brought him such grief, and the look in his eyes was ever so pitiable. But they were friendly acquaintances now, were they not? Éowyn looked out into the darkening sky in the East and she felt fear creeping into her heart and she sighed aloud as if to try to force it away somehow.

_This is the most I can do for you at a time like this, my lord Faramir,_ she thought to herself. Éowyn briefly touched his hand at his side. He looked up at her as if surprised by her gesture.

"I too have lost loved ones to this War, and ealier. My father died ambushed by a league of orcs when I was but a child. I know that I brought him joy, but I cannot remember one particular moment with him. My memories of him seem to have departed with his burial. And my mother died so suddenly afterwards consumed by her grief. I barely remember what she looked like. My brother and I were then removed to the king's court, and with his own son, my cousin Théodred, he raised us as his own children. Now, my dear uncle and cousin are dead; he who was like a father to me, and my dear cousin who was like a brother.We must find solace in the happy memories we have left." She sighed again at Eastern horizon, but did not remove her hand. "We both have lost loved ones to this darkness. Such are the times in which we find ourselves…." Éowyn let her voice trail off.

She looked at him again. It was if she finally understood her past full of grief as a whole as she stared into his eyes. They had both lived with that same burden. "But we do not suffer alone. The dead we keep in with us and in us they live on. We must not carry this as a burden, but as a blessing. Even in this dark hour… They would not have us so discouraged by their deaths, for it is said by the Eorl that those who live and die with just cause will find themselves in the marvelous halls of their forefathers and be merry in them forever more," she paused to think of how to finish her sentence. She looked at him, giving him the smallest of smiles and said, "They never truly leave us. Perhaps one day, we will see them again." This was a roundabout way of saying what she wanted; she wanted to relate to him some akin to hope, though she did not think she had any of her own to give.

Éowyn did not know it at the time, but her words deeply touched Faramir to the point where could not say another word to her that day.

To Éowyn, it felt strange to smile at Faramir. It was not that she did not enjoy smiling, but she seldom smiled, as her brother often reminded her not to look so stern in front of their people. When she smiled at Faramir, even the smallest turn of her lips evoked wonder and delight in his eyes. She felt him respond to her. The looks he gave her almost made her blush, but she saw him only as a friend, or so she would convince herself, and the feeling would pass. After all, there was nothing to smile about in times such as these. Her uncle lay in state somewhere in the City, her brother's fate was unknown, and the one she loved was forever out of her reach. She had nothing to smile about, really.

That night, Éowyn looked in the water basin at her reflection in the candlelight. She felt that her blue eyes were a little too close and her chin a bit too sharp. Éowyn had never seen an elf maid. She wondered if she too would be in awe of that beauty as the folk songs told. She sighed again, and looked out her window towards the East. As Ranna had said earlier when Éowyn was taking her meal in her chambers, the Lady Éowyn was obsessed with gazing towards the East. The servant woman herself insisted that she would not look in that way for whatever fate was meant to be could not be changed by looking in that direction. Ranna suggested that Éowyn divert herself and think about other things for the lady's brooding was not good for her health. But Éowyn could not heed the advice. How could she not think about the dire situation that her brother and Lord Aragorn found themselves in at this very moment? How could she sit still in her warm bed while she knew other men were going before the Black Gate itself on this cold March evening? She who was trained as a fighter and defender, was now useless and broken.

Before she knew it, Éowyn was again subdued by her self pity and scorn for the situation she found herself in. It was ever this way, for as long as she could remember. When her uncle began to fade in the growing power of Saruman and his loathsome servant Wormtongue, there was nothing she could do to prevent it so she could only resort to watching. Her uncle had been visibly dying before her and all she could do was make sure he was warm at night, that he had comfortable slippers to walk in, and that he took his soft gruel for meals. At the height of Wormtongue's power, he did not recognize his own kin, and this went on for years. Theódred and Eómer found solace in riding out and facing the enemy that they could see invading their lands. But Éowyn's enemy was invisible, and often silent. It was bred in part by Wormtongue's treachery and silky words that slithered into her heart when he spoke, and in part by the closeness of Edoras and how it seemed to get smaller as she got older. Her only defense was to grow cold to everything so she would not be lured by Wormtongue's words. But with the death of her parents and subsequently the death of her cousin, Éowyn felt even colder and more alone, as though she were standing on a precipice with cold lashing winds constantly upon her face and body.

She was such a proud woman; proud of her rich history and origin and of her country. But still, she wished that Edoras was greater than what it was. Éowyn had quietly wished that they were stronger and more valiant and that all Middle Earth knew them as heroes of valiant deeds. As a member of the royal house, she wanted to bring renown and glory to her people just as the heroes did in the tales that were sung in the Golden Hall when she was a child. Éowyn looked out the window and saw lightning strike in the eastern horizon. The sudden burst of light illuminated tall stone walls and carved figures decorating the City. She had seen some of Minas Tirith from the gardens and it was beyond anything she had ever seen. Gondor was indeed a great country, with a history that was older and richer than that of her own. She realized that though she had come to fight for Gondor with her uncle, she did not know much about this country, save some descriptions of its history told by the bards and she had never crossed its borders.

Thinking alone in her room on that fourth night of her stay in the City, and the second night since she made the Steward's acquaintance, her thoughts took a direction she did not intend. She thought of Faramir. In their hours of waiting here in the Houses of Healing, perhaps the hours before all was brought to ruin and last days of her life, she wanted to know more about him and about Gondor. He was a learned man, and he most likely read bound writings and old scrolls. She had heard that not only the herb lore of Gondor was old and skilled, but written knowledge was kept in the great underground vaults. She had an urge to be with him, if this was the end of days.

There was something the villain Wormtongue had said to her before his sudden departure from Edoras, running from her uncle's blade. He had told her that her people were heathen and dumb, but by the will of the Valar they were horse riders and that was their only saving grace. She was so angered by his words, but he being the chief counselor and she only the king's niece, she did not respond. Éowyn was ashamed also for half believing in what the villain said. And perhaps it was these words that made her want more for herself and for her country. She did not want to weakly die in hiding among her people. If she could do great things, then both she and her people could be remembered as being glorious in their final days.

_Is there any hope for a future though? Are these not the last days of my life? _thought Éowyn. "Nothing is certain," said the lady to the darkness around her. This thought made her very restless and again she felt as though she were a caged bird.

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Author's note: I'm going through the grammar and such, as duly noted and changed it around. To tell the truth, I really can't commit more dialogue between our hero and heroine. So it all ends up being told as a story from the 3rd person…LOL. I always thought these two rather shy in front of one another. But I'm trying to convey that their initial understanding of one another is mostly unspoken. –Kero. 


	4. I Bring Thee Healing

Note: Thanks to all who read and reviewed! I had no idea anyone would like my story this much! Thanks to all those who gave their suggestions to make the story better! I shall do my best! (Thanks also to Sir Fuzzalot who has reviewed every single chapter…That's very considerate.) –Kero.

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Chapter 4: I Bring Thee Healing

Later that night, Éowyn undid her sling and removed the bandages and splints, and moved her arm to test its strength. She then gingerly put on a dressing gown and took the candle with her and went out into the hall. She noticed that Merry's room was still lit through a crack under the door. There was also laughter. _Leave it to Hobbits to be so cheery at a time such as this_, thought Éowyn with a smile. She gave the door a knock and Merry opened it.

"Hullo milady," smiled the Hobbit. "Can you not sleep either?"

"Nay, 'tis impossible to sleep when one is restless. I heard laughter and thought perhaps I might join you?" Éowyn noticed there was a boy inside the room. Merry introduced him as Bergil the son of Beregond, who followed Faramir into battle. They heartily welcomed her inside and shared their little hoard of salted pork and sweet meats with her. These were courtesy of the child's mother. The two did not take heed that she was wrapped in a dressing gown but they did grant the lady the use of the chair, rather, and they sat cross-legged on the floor. Merry was just recounting what he remembered of the fight with the Witch King, but the way the Hobbit told it, the tale was much less terrifying and the truth was a little stretched. Merry's silhouette against the fire place was gesturing this way and that as he recounted the tale. Éowyn could not help but smile at the story teller and the wide-eyed boy who clearly admiring the Hobbit and the Lady in front of him.

"Merry, Milady, I think you two are by far two of the uncommonly bravest people I have ever met in person," praised the child. Merry laughed out loud and chewed another piece of salted pork.

"That's what Lord Faramir said to me earlier. He said that though I was small, I was capable of great things, and that the Lady Éowyn was brave and true, beyond all expectation, if I recall his words correctly."

"You spoke to Lord Faramir today?" asked Éowyn, trying to hide her interest in the subject.

"Aye, Lady, and he asked a great deal about me as an esquire of Rohan, and about you as well. He seemed particularly interested in what I had to say about you."

"I hope you were fair in the telling then, Master Meriadoc," said Éowyn feigning sternness in her voice.

"Nothing but the truth, Lady. You truly are the bravest woman I have ever met," said the Hobbit with pride. Éowyn blushed and thanked her friend. "And you are one of the bravest and most foolhardy person I have ever met, even among the Rohirrim. I was pleasantly surprised when I found that Halflings were so stout of heart. When all the king's men had fled in terror or madness by the creature, you and I were perhaps fools to stay. But stay by me you did. I could not have slain the Witch King without your assistance, Merry." Now it was Merry's turn to blush. He had never befriended a lady of such noble stature before, but he found her company pleasant like any other hobbit.

When Éowyn went back to her room after a few hours of that company her thoughts turn unexpectedly again to Faramir and why he would be so interested in her. From the very beginning, she knew that he wanted to court her, even though the first time they met she was horrid in both temper and in appearance. The thought of her approaching him, the Steward of Gondor, in her mightiest tone almost made her laugh in spite of herself. What a sight she must have been. Still, he was so attentive to her and so interested in what she had to say. She wondered if this was part of the Gondorian courtship ritual. Courtship in Rohan was a mystery to her as well. She herself had never been courted.

In her uncle's day, Edoras hardly ever held court, and even then, no ladies were present. Indeed, the court was sparsely populated in Theóden's day, and throughout Éowyn's life. What she had seen of courtship was sometimes behind a curtain, or in a wooded area behind the city, and even then her study was not long. As a member of the royal house, she mostly kept indoors and to herself when she was not playing with Theódred or Éomer. Not many came near her for perhaps they felt sorry for her demise, but her uncle was her friend and of course her cousin and brother. Her nurse was her only friend when the men were gone, but then she left and returned to her village. Of course, she had no interest in courtship now or ever. Not with Lord Aragorn and her brother missing.

She had planned for herself a glorious death to rid her of any shame she might have felt when Lord Aragorn refused her, but that too was not to be. Courtship was the last thing on her mind right now. Her loneliness caused her to feel ever more sorry for herself. But her inner turmoil began to resolve itself when she realized she was glad for the friendship of Merry and Faramir at a time like this. The feeling set her at ease again and she finally drifted off to sleep.

The next day, Éowyn dressed in the simple white gown with the help of Ranna, who was displeased that she had taken off the splints, but did not bother replacing them since the lady's arm seemed to be mending nicely and the bruises were gone. Godorian healers added salves to open wounds that promoted healing and bone growth. To Éowyn's surprise, the moment her feet left the chamber they took her immediately to the gardens though that was not the original destination of her desire. As it was during the morning before, the gardens were empty as the sun had just barely come back to this side of the world. Faramir was also not there. To her surprise, she found herself looking out to the East by the eastern wall of the gardens but also waiting for Faramir to come and feeling disappointed that he was not there.

The scene to the East was the same as ever; gloomy, foreboding and evil. The shadow loomed over all of the White City. From what Faramir said of Boromir's quest, and from what Merry said of his cousin Frodo and friend Samwise, Éowyn gathered that Gandalf was indeed hiding a secret but she did not know what it was. She was pondering this secret when she heard the soft footsteps of Faramir behind her. From the brief friendship they had made together, Éowyn knew the man enough to know that not only did he speak carefully but he also tread carefully. She wondered if this was due to his father.

Éowyn turned to see Faramir, dressed in a new dark blue tunic and in a dark velvet cloak lined with fur that made him appear much more regal than before. From his walk, she could tell that his wounds were healing, and he stood a bit straighter, and walked with a bit more determination. She dropped a curtsey, as she was now physically capable of doing so.

"Nay, my Lady, there is no need for such formality. Let us be again as we were yesterday and be at ease in one another's company," he said gently. So they stood there by the Eastern wall of the garden, looking out into the bleak future. The did not speak but stood close without touching. Éowyn again thought of the Lord Aragorn and her brother. She hoped they were still alive. Then, she came out of her silent prayers and looked at Faramir. He too was staring out to the East but she could not tell what he was thinking. He looked unhappy and she felt that the frown he was wearing did not suit him.

Éowyn breached the silence this time and asked him to tell her a bit about Gondorian history. She felt that the conversation would be diverting for the both of them, as opposed to brooding at the Eastern horizon. As she suspected, being the Steward's son meant that one had to be learned, but Faramir was even more so for he enjoyed learning and reading and had often visited the underground vaults containing age old knowledge. Mithrandir himself had at times tutored the younger Faramir in understanding the ancient writings. His countenance brightened as he told what he knew, which was impressive. She almost wished that she had paid more attention to the Gondorian stories when she was a child, but it was entertaining watching Faramir as he told the stories to her. He told of their descent from the great Númenorians and the history which led to the last king and first Steward of Gondor. At noon, servants brought them bread and cheese and wine and they sat and ate as Éowyn listened and Faramir spoke of the Stewards and his House.

"Well, if you are descendants of the Númenorians, then where do they come from, I wonder? Our lore does not go so far back in memory and time," sighed Éowyn. Faramir, perhaps sensing something of what she felt when she uttered that statement then asked her about her country and its lore. To that Éowyn faithfully recounted some of her favorite stories, such as that of Eorl the Young and Helm Hammerhand.

"Do not your people sing those tales?" asked Faramir.

"Yes, for we do not often use our written language, but in song the tales are easily remembered, and the lore is always told in the old tongue. Only recently in my grandfather's day did we begin recording our knowledge in written Rohirric."

"Can you not sing a ballad for me?" he asked quietly. To this, she actually laughed a bit. He looked up when he heard the sound of her heart-felt laughter and found it quite to his liking.

"I'd rather you did not insist," she said, looking down at her feet. "I do not presume that I am any good at singing and I would not have you feeling disappointed after the asking."

"Please?" he requested.

She looked at him and his face was so eager that she had to look away. This was a fair enough exchange, after all, as Faramir had told her so much of his own people. Éowyn cleared her throat and began the first lines of the lay of Eorl. Her voice was soft at first, but as she remembered more of the tune her voice rang clearer and it slightly echoed against the garden walls. Faramir listened as if entranced and the look on his face told her that he was enjoying it thoroughly. When she finished, he did not ask her to sing again, but was silent as if he was committing the sound of her voice to memory. Again, they walked to the eastern wall and stood in silence without touching.

"If it please you, my lord," Éowyn said after a little while, "could you tell me about the lore of the origins of Númenorians?" To this he agreed and he told her about the One who was called _Eru _and his followers who helped him created Middle Earth and who later became the _Valar_. Éowyn listened entranced by such a tale of gods and monsters. She could tell that he was enamored of the Elves, but he did not know very much about their history as Elves did not share it with humans. When she learned of how the dwarves were said to be created, she immediately thought of Gimli Gloin's son, whom she admired and counted among her new friends. He was grumpy to those who knew him not, but very kind and humorous to those who did. The first time she saw him, she liked him immediately. She told this to Faramir and he was fascinated that she had actually met a dwarf and befriended him.

"The elves are indeed fair," she continued. "Legolas Greenwood of the Woodland Realm is actually a prince as Gimli explained it to me. There has always been a rivalry between the Elves and the Dwarves though, as Gimli explained that some dwarven ancestors were slain by an Elven noble over something called a _silmaril_, although I did not pretend to know what that is. But now as you have described it, it must be some sort of jewel created by the gods and the elves. Legolas intervened at that point in our conversation and said the dwarves were slain in self defense because the power of the jewel made the dwarves covet it and moved them to slay its Elven master. Whatever story is right, the rivalry ensued and there is rivalry still between the two. But the rivalry between Legolas and Gimli seem mostly in jest. I am amazed that after such a long history of hatred between the kins that they two are friends. They both follow Lord Aragorn so faithfully…." Her voice trailed off and she suddenly wished that she was not in the gardens but out there in their company once more. Again, Faramir sensed her distress at the mention of Lord Aragorn, his own king and savior.

"I am amazed Lady that you have met an elf. I have not been so lucky in my life," Faramir said quietly. Not noticing that Faramir purposefully changed the subject, she continued, "Yes, indeed. Legolas is fair to the eye, and if I may say, I think the elves sort of…well, glow. There is such an illumination of the spirit that you cannot help but stare in wonder that perhaps it is a trick of the light, or that your eyes deceive you. Gimli tried to describe the beauty of Lady Galadriel to me, but he could not find the right words. As your stories tell, they are much favored by the gods and blessed with beauty as well as immortality. Though there is something beyond my ken that is beheld in their eyes, and it is something that awes me, yet makes me sad to see it. Legolas did mention to me once the _Long Defeat_, but I did not know of which defeat he was speaking. I would imagine that it had something to do with the elves leaving Middle Earth now, and we will never see them again when they have gone." She sighed. "To me, that is indeed sad."

"It is men who shall inherit Middle Earth, Gandalf said to me once." He too sighed at the irony. "I have never even seen an elf and already they are leaving."

"Perhaps it is best that we do not know too much about them. From what you say in your tales, it was envy of immortality that brought the downfall of Númenor. When I was young, my nurse told me once that envy was a great fault, and that we should do the best with what we have."

"That was indeed a wise woman who raised you, then," said Faramir. "I marvel at your wisdom, my Lady."

"I am not so very wise, Lord Faramir. Though envy is a fault, I am afraid there are none who can resist it," she said with a sigh. Her thoughts then turned to one she had never seen, nor had the honor of making the acquaintance. "They say that the Lady Evenstar has an ethereal beauty." She was silent for a long moment. "Do you know the tale of Béren and Lúthien?" He nodded.

"Will you not tell it to me?"


	5. With A Handful of Flowers

Chapter 5: With a Handful of Flowers

When Faramir and Éowyn parted that day, he thought that at last he had seen her mind, and understood her heart. Like his father, there was a talent in him to perceive what was thought but unsaid by men. He did not have many dealings with women, as his father's schedule for him did not permit it, but with the women his brother had introduced to him in the past he thought he could see right through them. He could not boast that he was as knowledgeable as his brother was in the ways of women, but he felt that he did have a talent for understanding people in general.

However, Éowyn was different and complicated. Faramir had often wondered what would possess such proud and lovely woman to don a soldier's attire and leap into battle in disguise as a man. He was certain there was nothing but goodness in her heart, but she was also very proud and ashamed all at once. Éowyn also had an abundance of emotions colliding within her, most of which she did not understand. To Faramir, the White Lady was a beautiful flower unopened, valiantly but in vain protecting itself from the frost that had grown over its petals. Her core was already touched by frost, and her journey into Darkness while wounded by the Witch King could not have helped her disposition at all. It would require much time and patience to warm her and win her.

But in their most recent conversations he finally saw all else that troubled her; things he did not understand when he first saw her pride and the look in her eye that sought to challenge Death itself. He surmised that because of his strange and mysterious upbringing with elves that Lord Aragorn came to know an elf maid; and that this Lady Evenstar was dear to the Lord Aragorn; but Lady Éowyn too loved the Lord Aragorn. Yet Aragorn could not return her feelings for his love of Lady Evenstar came much, much earlier and ran much deeper.

Perhaps Éowyn greatly admired Lord Aragorn and saw that he was destined for great things and she desired a part of that glory; and her desire arose from a wanting of greater things for herself and her country. When Éowyn realized it would be impossible for her to achieve what she wanted the only way to soothe her pride and maintain her honor in her own esteem was to die in battle with her kin. It was an act of bravery and an act of desperation in one swing of the blade. If that was her fate, she would choose Death on her own terms. These thoughts grieved Faramir and pierced his heart. So fair and valiant a lady should not be so burdened and so sorrowful.

This was the cloud that hung over her head at all times, and it was something she had to conquer by herself now that she had not died and was still among the living. An unsteady future lay before her, even if the world did not end in the days to come. Faramir wanted to do something to ease her burden, but he could not decide what to offer her. She was fair, yes, and proud, certainly, but what could he offer to such a woman to make her happy?

Again, Faramir turned his thoughts to the sound of her laughter and how much he liked to hear it. Her laughter and the sound of her voice eased his own troubled heart. Thinking of her soothed his lonely silence, and he soon drifted pleasantly dreaming of the Lady Éowyn, lulled to sleep by her distant voice alight in song in the deep recesses of his mind.

The fourth day after their first meeting, Faramir awoke from pleasant dreams of sitting beneath a large tree in the gardens and enjoying folk songs of the Eorl. He was determined to make this dream a reality in this dark and dismal time. Throughout his life, he had experienced so little joy living under his father, except when his brother came to cheer him. Now Boromir was gone and Éowyn had come into his life. This was a great consolation for him since he had lost his brother and father so recently, even though he knew that she did not feel the same way for him. But her feelings were not easy to discern beneath that beautiful yet frosty exterior and he hoped that she had at least come to like him, even if a little.

Éowyn too understood things that were left unspoken. This did not come as such a surprise to him since she was wise if not learned, and being a noble lady she saw much at her uncle's court, but was not free to use her voice. As he was well aware, those who are not permitted to speak will then turn their minds to try to understand everything around them in silence. They both were not so different as she supposed.

Faramir was determined to be happy with Éowyn's company, even if these were the last days of his life. He was saddened by the thought that they would be parted by Death, for he could not bear to lose something so precious that he had only recently found. Happiness was new to Faramir. But he knew he would die protecting her, if it really came to that. With these thoughts, Faramir stepped into the garden but did not find the White Lady there. She was usually an early riser, and so he went to Warden to see if there was anything amiss. The Warden assured him that all was well and that the Lady asked to see her uncle in the Citadel. Concerned that she would be again consumed by her grief, or even her guilt, Faramir went there to find her.

He found her in the great marble ceremonial hall, at the foot of the dais where her uncle lay in state in the cooled room, underneath a thin white shroud atop the flowered altar. Éowyn looked small and crumpled as she sat on her haunches, her skirts flowing all about her. She looked so open and vulnerable there. The thin veil of Death now separated Éowyn from the man before hervwho was like a father. Faramir shared the similar burden of grief, for not far away, in another room of a separate chamber were the remains of his father beneath the shroud.

"At last I have found you," said Faramir quietly. He bowed low in respect for the body lying in state and then sat down on the lowest step, facing Éowyn. He could see that she had been weeping.

"Let us come away from here," urged Faramir. "The dead and the living are forever divided by the shroud. This place, it chills my heart and causes me to recall things I wish not to remember. Come away, Éowyn," he said gently. He helped her up and they quietly exited the hall.

They walked in silent through the stone corridors of the castle until once again, they beheld the familiar sight of the Houses of Healing, and entered the gates.

"I did not have the chance to say farewell on the field. I thought I should say it now, while I have the time," she said in a numb voice as they retreated to their usual place in the gardens.

"I am certain he will not hold this against you in Death. As you said before, he wants you to be happy," he replied solemnly.

"It would have shocked him to know it was I who slew the foul beast that threatened to eat him and his dead horse," said Éowyn, with a slightly bitter laugh.

She looked up at him, and there was an eagerness in her eyes, as if she was imploring with him to listen and understand what she was about to say. "In my uncle's court, there was this worm, a councilor sent by Sauruman, whom we thought was our friend. He poisoned my uncle's mind with his witchcraft, but I was also an object of his intent." She shuddered at the thought of him. "I know not where he is now, but still his words haunts my dreams, as he haunted my steps when he was alive. He told me my House was low, but for our skill with horses we had no other saving grace." A sob threatened to rise from her throat. "And I believed him. As my uncle's health failed, I believed him. I am a traitor in thought to my own House. So I thought to redeem myself for this, among other things, on the field. I do not want my uncle to blame me for this."

"But your House is noble, dear Lady. All who have known the skill and bravery of the Rohirrim do not doubt that. And your uncle died in glory, Éowyn. His charge to save Minas Tirith will be told over and over again. I have already heard stories from those who were on the wall and witnessed the valiant King of the Mark on his gleaming white horse laying waste to all the fell monsters before him."

"Death is what I wanted as well," she said quietly. "Sometimes, I hear Wormtongue's voice in my head, saying that I have shamed my House by disobeying my uncle. My uncle told me to stay and watch over the people who remained. I wanted to do as I was bid, and yet I wanted more. I was acting on my own behalf, for my own glory. Now, in my nightmares I see Gríma Wormtongue. He tells me that Death is more welcome than life, as hope is gone in all things."

"This is not true, Éowyn, and you yourself cannot believe it. There is always hope." He took her hands in his. "When my people speak of you, I hear the hope and marvel in their voices." He reached over and took her hand in his. "You and I have survived the Black Breath, but even now, it has a hold on us. We must not heed the voices in our heads that tell us Death is better than life. It is not true. If I were dead, I would not have met you, and you are much better company than Death, I wager." He gave her a smile when she looked up at him, and she returned it. Faramir offered his arm; Éowyn took it without hesitation and he led her back into the innder gardens where the fountain continued to bubble and flow before the Eastern wall.

"Thank you," she said quietly as she sat down along the fountain. She looked up and saw that he was much concerned for her well being.

"For what?" he asked simply.

"I am not certain. But in you I sense something I did not expect. You are so hopeful and your manner is strange to me but comforting."

"You and I are not so different, Éowyn. We have stared Death in the face, and we have walked away from it," he said.

"I am sorry, Faramir. You have been such a comfort to me, and here I have offered nothing in return," she sighed.

"The best comfort you can provide is, I am afraid, a selfish request of mine." She looked up at him questioningly.

"I would have you keep me company here in the gardens, so that I may speak with you and look upon you for as much as time will allow," he said rather gently, even a little shyly. "Your presence alone gives me much comfort."

Though words like this would have annoyed her in the beginning of their acquaintance, this gentleman's words were not unpleasant to her now. Éowyn sat with him in silence by the fountain beneath the boughs of a tall green tree. There was such a look of contentment on his face that Éowyn could not help but stare. His mind was elsewhere, and his expression was soft and the corners of his lips turn upward into a slight smile.

_Is he content simply because I am here with him?_ she asked herself.

"I am glad to have made a friend like you in the City," she blurted out when he noticed that she was staring at him, and she looked at his feet. "I believe that since Merry is often up and about with Bergil I have no one else to keep me company here. I have never enjoyed being alone, though much of my life has meant being alone. But now that I have known your company, I do not…I wish I had met you earlier." She caught herself as she realized what she had just said. Éowyn was uncertain as to what she meant by it. But perhaps if she had met Faramir before Aragorn….

She did not know why she had said this much to him. She found her voice carrying on and her words just stumbled over one another. Éowyn had never told anyone of her inner feelings and thoughts, not even family. But Faramir was different. The fact that he was an outsider helped her open up to him. Nor did she feel as though he judged her. Her intuition told her that she could trust him with anything, even her life. His smile broadened at her words, and she saw the eager light of hope in his eyes.

_Did I say something I should not have? _Éowyn was bit distressed at the thought of making any man love her. _Is it so terrible a thing that Faramir should care for me? _Perhaps Faramir saw something of the turmoil within her, and he changed the subject and described Ithilien, a long stretch of land that had long guarded Gondor against Mordor. Though it was marked with scars of war and attacks by orcs, it was indeed a fair country. He described a location where he and his rangers often kept vigil that was breathtaking to the imagination. In the spring there were fair flowers everywhere, growing wild and free. There was a waterfall near that location, and when the sun shined into that little canyon there were many colored arches of light dancing in the mist. It was such a wonderful place to hear described, since Éowyn was born and raised in a grassy flatland that did not often flower and the greenery would turn brown if rain was lacking. She told this to Faramir and she mentioned that the only flower Éowyn really liked was _symbelmyrne,_ a flower that only grew over grave mounds behind Edoras.

"That is indeed tragic," replied Faramir. "A lady as fair as you should always have many fair flowers to keep her company."

She blushed a little at his words.

And so this was how they spent the day, eating their noontime meal in the shade of the green tree. Before they parted for that day, at sunset, Faramir carefully chose a flower in the garden and picked it for her. She accepted the gift and smiled. It was the first time Faramir had ever seen her smile fully and he then committed to memory how her smile lit up her eyes. He took her hand and kissed it, and parted without another word. Éowyn stood there, with flower in hand and gently touched the hand he kissed with her other hand. No man had ever done that before and she marveled at the customs of Gondor. The touch of his lips on her skin was not at all unpleasant.

* * *

Note: I am such a fool for romantic notions. I should have been a romance novelist. But then, where Tolkien is lacking is the transition to how Éowyn came to regard Faramir from stranger to the love of her life. Something like that is not as easy as Tolkien made it out to be! –Kero. 


	6. A New Beginning

Author's Note: I wanted to get as much of the text in here as possible. It's very romantic the way Tolkien wrote this part of the story. Don't you think it odd that he devoted an entire chapter to Éowyn and Faramir and only stuck the ending for Aragorn and the Evenstar in an Appendix?

I think Tolkien was as devoted to Éowyn as her fans are, because Éowyn is human. As a fellow human, I identify more with the strong and yet internally fragile Éowyn, imperfect as she is; mortal as she is. I like her that way. And Faramir, though no Aragorn, would have been my first choice if I were in her shoes. Funny how one can carry the torch for a fictional character for so many years…. –Kero.

* * *

Chapter 6: A New Beginning

That night, Éowyn had dark dreams of battle and death. The scenes before her were terrible to behold and she felt herself tremble before the nightmare. She saw dead faces on the fields of Pelennor in front of the City; faces of men she had known throughout her life. In a trance-like state, she was desperately searching for her uncle's body among the slain that scattered the floor, hoping that the orcs had not hewed it to pieces but her search was unavailing. But amid her anguish and desperation, she thought she caught the scent of _athelas_. She was then stumbling in the dark, and all lights were gone. Éowyn had only the scent to follow and it grew stronger as she stumbled alone. She felt herself fall down, and slumped in a dark ditch she looked up to see a light. There was a hand reaching down to help her. Cautiously, she took it, and she was lifted from the darkness. The scent was very strong now, and as she came up she leaned in against the man whose face was pure light. Looking at him, she half expected Lord Aragorn to be looking down at her but it was not him. This face was also strong and kind with a thoughtful expression and she knew at once that it was not whom she first thought it was. In his clearly defined blue-gray eyes she saw that he loved her; this face that was Faramir's and not Aragorn's.

On the fifth day since she made Faramir's acquaintance and gained his friendship, Éowyn awoke in darkness. She must have overslept because she could smell that a fresh bowl of _athelas_ had already been brought in by Ranna, as well as a steaming bowl of porridge and dried fruits. But she did not have an appetite this morning and she could not believe that the morning was so dark. Outside her window she saw the empty garden and the morning sky above was darker than it had ever been. All light was absorbed into the moody darkness that now veiled the City in lasting night. There were no stars. It seemed there had not been stars over the City in a long, long time. For a woman who wished for death on the battlefield, a woman who slew the Witch King of Angmar in defense of her fallen uncle, Éowyn felt again afraid. Her dream had disturbed her and in her waking hours the smell of _athelas_ did not comfort her. Something was going to happen today, for good or ill. Today felt like the end of days.

Éowyn paced her room and felt even more caged and helpless than she had in all of her time spent at the Houses. She suddenly paused when she noticed a vase of flowers on the fire place mantle. They were gently lined by soft fragrant ferns, and the flowers were identical to the one that Faramir had picked for her the previous evening. The soft white petals with a light purple center sent a sweet aroma that mixed well with the _athelas._ He had sent these to her. Éowyn felt the sudden need to go to him and be comforted by him. She hurriedly changed out of her sleeping gown and into her white dress and slippers. Ranna had also left her a long gray velvet outer lining to button over her dress and keep her warm this cold day. She walked as quickly as she could to the gardens but still finding them empty when she arrived, Éowyn went back into the Houses in search of Faramir. She did not know where to look first, for the Houses were extensive and she did not know where his chambers were. But in the hall, she met the Warden and immediately went to him.

"Master Warden, have you seen the Lord Faramir? I am in search of him, but I do not know where to look." Her voice sounded strange to her ears. It was a bit panicked and almost desperate, which was very unlike her, as she always spoke in cool and even tones. Éowyn did not know why it was so important that she find Faramir, but she had felt this urge since she awoke from her dream.

"He was not in the gardens," she said finally. At that last phrase, her voice sounded small and sad. For a moment, she felt very young and alone.

"My lady, I am sure he is around here somewhere. I will help you look for him, if that would please you," said the old man.

"There is no need, for I am here." The Warden and Éowyn turned to see Faramir walking towards them from the other end of the hall. The warden took his leave and Éowyn walked a bit too quickly to her surprise, to Faramir, stopping short when she came within a foot of him and she could not meet his eyes, and so resolved to stare at his chest. The White Lady was a little mortified at how she had declared herself before the Warden and felt a bit foolish for it.

"I heard you were looking for me, Lady. What has driven you to such distress?" There was some hint of amusement in his voice. She looked up at him intently but coherent speech was beyond her ability at that moment. His eyes were as kind as always and a bit curious as he looked upon her.

"I…," she began, trying to compose herself in front of him. She could not find the words and she felt very naïve in front of the lord Steward.

"I was distressed because you were not in the garden as usual," she said to save herself. "And I am not distressed now for clearly you are found," she said evenly.

Silence. At length, she spoke and said, "Will you not come to the gardens, my lord? There is something in the air today that I do not like at all. I feel as though today we stand on the edge of defeat or victory, but I cannot say which, and I would have you come with me to see it." Her voice was quiet and she found herself looking at his boots. He placed a hand on her shoulder and this caused her to look up at him.

"Of course," he replied. "I too have been tense this morning. Today feels weightier and darker than usual."

_I do not want to be alone today_, she thought to herself. Éowyn then saw some understanding in his eyes, as if he had heard her thoughts. Faramir offered his arm to her and they walked to the gardens. Before they reached the outside, however, Faramir paused and turned to her.

"Here, this day is colder and darker. You will need this." She looked down and saw that he had been holding a midnight blue mantle in his arms the entire time. He draped it over her shoulders and fastened the clasp at her throat. The material was very rich and the inside lined with a short fur and the edges of the mantle were embroidered with small silver stars.

"My Lord, this is beautiful. I cannot accept this," began Éowyn.

"Of course you can. It is my gift to you and I will not have it any other way." She looked up and saw the same eyes that she gazed upon in her dream. There was not doubt now that there was an expression of love there, just as she felt it in her dream. Éowyn shied away and looked down at her feet, taking a deep breath. Then, he offered her his arm, and she took it, and they walked again to the wall. Along the way, he explained that the mantle Éowyn his late mother's, though she had never worn it, and while it was still being finished, she had passed on peacefully. Éowyn was touched to have such a gift.

Soon afterwards, as they were standing on the Eastern wall together, the moment they had anticipated came; the moment Éowyn had dreaded all morning. All sound and wind died off, and were sucked into silence. She could hear the ringing in her ears and that too diminished and stopped as if her very blood had stopped its course through her veins. There was total silence and she dared not breathe. In that moment, their hands met and clasped tightly though they did not realize it. Then it seemed that a mountain in the distance rose into the sky and fell. The earth rattled and shook but thereafter, the spell was broken. Éowyn felt herself breathe again and take in the cool air into her lungs.

When he caught his breath as well, he told her that it reminded him of the destruction of Númenor and of darkness inescapable. She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arm around his in her uncertainty.

"The darnkness cannot endure, Éowyn. That, I believe." Before she knew it, she was in his arms, and they were both silent and looking to the East and the north looking for any sign. In the wind, their raven and golden hair blew out behind them and intermingled. Then the Shadow departed, and the light shone forth from the sky and the houses below in the City were cheering and drumming in triumph. People were shouting excitedly when they saw giant eagles flying towards the City, singing songs of valor and victory. No doubt, said Faramir, to bring the good news that the Dark Lord was defeated. When Éowyn came to her senses again, she was a bit embarrassed at still being held by Faramir, even as others came into the gardens to see the sun shining in the east, but she did not pull away. It was a comfort to her and she understood now that there was an uncertain future before her, but a future nonetheless. At length, he released her, and smiled.

"The day is won, my lady," he said. She could not read the look on his face.

"Indeed it is." She looked up at the blue sky and smiled. In the distance she saw the large golden birds circling Minas Tirith. They sung the most beautiful songs of rejoice and hope, having quite the opposite effect than the Nazgul who had terrorized the City days before. Their voices were so enchanting that all listeners began to believe once again. Éowyn hoped that Éomer was all right, as well as Lord Aragorn. But this thought troubled her in a different way, for if they were alive, she would soon see them both, and she realized a conflict had arisen in her heart but she did not know why.

In the days that followed, she saw little of Faramir who was declared completely healed by the Warden and was released to regular duty for Faramir had taken up his authority in the City. Authenticating the stewardship took place in a brief ceremony that was small and private. Éowyn was there, however, hovering at a distance from behind pillars and curtains, and when Faramir looked up briefly and saw her, they both smiled but they did not have an opportunity to speak to one another. Then came the day Merry went to join the others with a supply of food to Cair Andros, where the joint armies were situated temporarily to tend to their wounded. Éomer had also summoned his sister to come but she did not go. She remained in the Houses of Healing, even though her wounds had healed very nicely and she had the Warden's leave to go. She was content to walk alone in the gardens and felt not a little abandoned.

Éowyn knew that Faramir was busy and could not pay heed to her now, and her mind understood the reason but her heart was troubled. Fingering the fine embroidery on the beautiful cloak that Faramir gave her, she thought of him. The truth of Faramir's intentions towards her was unmistakably clear to her now. But still, she was in turmoil. She did not wish to go to her brother and Aragorn, and she was uncertain about going to find Faramir. A voice in her head continued to give her unending doubts. Instead, she delayed any decisions of her own and stayed in the gardens at the Houses. Sometimes, Ranna would walk with her in silent company, but Ranna also noticed that something was amiss. Éowyn was not eating or sleeping well, and she had again grown pale. Ranna went to report to the Warden, who in turn went to Lord Faramir.

Faramir came to Éowyn immediately as soon as the Warden told him. The new Steward scorned himself for leaving her all alone, but his duties would not have it otherwise. As there was nothing verified between them, aside from their friendship and warm feelings, he did not feel it was appropriate to ask her to join him in his daily tasks, or to accompany him for his meals. And when he heard that her brother Lord Éomer had sent for her to join them in Cormallen, he did not dare intervene. He decided that if she wished to go to Lord Aragorn's side, there was nothing he could do. The thought of never winning her affections grieved him deeply, and perhaps it was this that set upon Faramir to avoid thinking on the subject all together. But when he heard that she had declined to go to Cormallen, this gave him hope. He wanted to give her some more time. Perhaps she was in turmoil now, and Faramir was resolved to help her make some decision, though she herself may not wish to.

He found her a sad sight indeed: pale in face with and expression in her eyes relaying turmoil. He watched her walk over to the wall with shoulders slumped and leaned upon it as if her own weight was too much for her. Dressed in the cloak he had given her, she looked regal but frail. This had to be the time that Faramir declared his love for her and offer her all that he could give, for she had to choose to accept or reject him. If she accepted, he would be the happiest man of all men this day. If she rejected him, then her happiness was beyond his reach forever. He was now determined to try to save the woman he loved from her own despair. It was all he wanted now. Stewardship on hold, he told his advisors that he would be back in an hour.

"Éowyn why do you tarry here and do not go to Cormallen beyond Cair Andros, where your brother awaits you?" he asked steadily as he approached. She turned to face him slowly.

"Do you not know?" she replied. Her voice was barely audible. Two reasons he gave her in his response to her question. One was that seeing the Lord Aragorn would not bring her any joy now. And the second was that she did not wish to leave Faramir. And after a pause he gave a third reason that was a combination of the first two.

"Éowyn do you not love me, or will you not?" he firmly asked her. She looked at him and his eyes were honest. Éowyn found it difficult to maintain her gaze.

"I wished to be loved by another," she replied. He knew of whom she spoke. She was certain of it. After a pause, she said, "But I desire no man's pity." Faramir made it clear that he understood that part. He understood her feelings for Lord Aragorn, like that of a young soldier toward a great captain, for Aragorn was a great captain of men. And when he gave her only understanding and pity, but not love, she then wanted nothing but to die bravely in battle.

_How could he understand so much about me? These are things I could not put in words and yet he sees them as plain as the day_, thought Éowyn to herself. Aragorn had pitied her, and she resented him for it. She looked away from him and his revealing words.

"Look at me, Éowyn!" he insisted. Her eyes returned his gaze steadily. She was not used to being opened like a nut in its shell, let alone being talked to by a man with such determination to force her to see her life as it was; honestly facing her naked truth and her own feelings. At first she was greatly unnerved. But slowly, Éowyn understood that he was trying to help her understand herself before she wasted away from a lack of direction and purpose.

"Do not scorn the pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, even beyond the words of the Elven tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrow-less and without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor still I would love you." He lay his heart at her feet now, and she saw him with his soul completely exposed and vulnerable. She was at a loss for a response to such an offering. She felt unworthy of it.

After a pause, he asked her again, gently now, "Éowyn, do you not love me?" And with that, she felt her Winter melt and pass away. The voice in her head that created so much doubt was silenced. Her heart beat and her blood coursed warmly through her veins. Something stirred in her soul that she did not before understand and she finally recognized it as her love for the kind and gentle Faramir. It had always been there, since the day they met, but she never gave it a chance to breathe. Aragorn had cared for and pitied her, but Faramir lcared for and oved her with all his heart. He understood her more than she did herself.

For a moment all she could do was stare back at him blankly, no expression daring to touch her face, and she could feel the tears well up in her eyes and she swallowed her pride. The look in Faramir's face was anxious, now fearing that he had said too much and that the lady did not love him after all, especially not after he had been so frank with her. To quell any fears on his part, all Éowyn could do was step closer to him and lean into him with a sigh of release. She moistened his tunic with her tears amid quiet sobs as she breathed in his scent; a scent that reminded her of _athelas_.

"I do love you," she said in a muffled voice into his shirt and she was not certain if he heard her. "More now than when I first met you. I think I loved you even then. I understand it now." Her words were a revelation to even herself, and happiness in her heart shone like a thousand suns. In response to her words he held her close and kissed her deeply for the first time. Her gentle sobbing was mixed with laughter now as he continued to kiss her. They stood atop the wall of the garden then, looking East and in the sunlight. Many people below them saw the two and were amazed for surely there was the valiant White Lady of Rohan and that was their Steward who had exchanged a passionate kiss on the Eastern wall. All were gladdened by the sight for both were well loved by the people in the City. In the days prior to the king's return, Éowyn stayed in the Houses of Healing as that place was ever so dear to her now.


	7. A New Love

Chapter 7: A New Love

When Aragorn returned to the City for his coronation, all the people of Gondor went to the streets to see their hero and would-be king. Éowyn was accompanied by Elfhelm, a Marshall of the Mark, throughout most of the day. She watched with pride as Faramir gave the crown to Frodo Baggins, at the new king's request, who then gave it to the White Wizard, and Mithrandir then took the crown and placed it upon Aragorn's head, and all the people cheered. It was quite symbolic. Only until now was everyone let on in the secret of the Ringbearer, and the harships he faced to destroy Sauron at the root of his evil. She thought it very fitting that the little halflings, including her favorite, Merry, were dressed in the finest velvets and silks, announcing each of their importance in the Great War. Éowyn still had to secretly smile at the fact that their hairy feet wore no shoes. Much to her delight, she made the acquaintance of Merry's cousins, Pippin and Frodo, as well as Samwise at the end of that ceremony.

She was also present later that day when Elessar made Faramir the Prince of Ithilien, a place she knew he was very fond of, for he had protected that part of the countryside with his rangers for many years. She felt that this was his right, and King Elessar was just for granting it to him. The celebrations were many and long that night and Éowyn finally found her brother again and conversed deeply between themselves.

Her brother spun such tales about the Black Gates that made her shudder and marvel at the bravery of the king and those who followed him. She told him how the Black Breath had a hold of her for many days even after her wounds had healed, but then she had made friends in the City that gave her comfort. Her brother was glad to hear this. In part, he was afraid that his sister would not recover from King Elessar's rejection, but knew that he sister was made of stronger mettle than that. Naturally, as her elder brother, he was biased in his conclusion that his sister would have also made a fair queen. Still, it was better for his sister that this did not come to pass. She was too wild for such a formal title. Éowyn however, did not yet tell her brother of Faramir and what had ensued and blossomed between them when her brother left her in the City and his care. Surely, there was much to do back in Rohan, and it would be a while before she could return to Minas Tirith when she left with her brother. She did not want her brother to worry about her as there was much to do back home. This troubled her for she could not bear a long separation from Faramir. If she could help it, they would not be parted for the rest of their days. But leave him she must for Éomer was not learned in the ways of government as she and her cousin Theódred had been.

Back before the days of Wormtongue's complete domination over her uncle, when her cousin was not out patrolling their borders, he was at the king's side, learning the way of governing their people as he was next in line. Éowyn learned these things by default when her cousin and brother were constantly out on patrol, and her uncle was ailing under the control of Saruman. Many of the people turned to her instead, as head of the king's household, to aid their troubles. Wormtongue cared nothing for the government of Rohan and resolved to make a mess of everything, and Éowyn and her cousin were secretly acting as stewards for her uncle when his mind was completely lost.

With her cousin and uncle were gone, and Éomer only had Éowyn, now his sole kin. She would not abandon him, for she knew that the wild men sacked and burned many villages, and many of the people were camped at Helms Deep or at Edoras and all were in great need of governance. This burden could not be carried by her brother alone. It was too late to supplement the Autumn harvest now, though Éowyn was determined to find a way around it. She had declared that she wanted to be a healer now, for she had been healed by those who loved and cared for her, and her people and kingdom had many wounds. Not all heroes are sung, nor do they need to be for their glory is greatest and beyond words, she thought to herself. These were the words of Theóden. She felt a bit bitter at not being able to speak to her uncle, to consult him for guidance. The burden that now weighed upon her heart was enough to make her heart ache.

Not wishing to be seen distruaght in a time of celebration and in front of so many people, she went to the hall where her uncle was lying in state. This part of the castle was very quiet, and the guards were not present. She knelt in fealty before her uncle on the stone steps of the dais. She was grieving more openly now, and Éowyn pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dried her eyes. She was careful not to let the tears fall on her new dress, a gift from Faramir. It was peach colored, with more frilly underskirts than she was used to, but the cloth was smooth and fair to look upon. The outer sleeves were long and elegant and embroidered with white ivy and floral designs. Her brother commented that she looked fetching in it, but she did not reveal that it was a gift from her beloved. She was certain she did not look so "fetching" as she knelt crumpled on the stone floor.

_I promise you, Uncle. I will not leave our people in their time of need. My happiness will have to wait. I pray that you watch over me, in the houses of our forefathers, and grant me wisdom to know the right thing to do_, prayed Éowyn silently. _Please guide my brother, who was ever like a son to you. _When she was finished, she leaned back and sat on her haunches but did not want to get up and rejoin the celebrations for she was deep in thought about many things sitting there by her uncle the king. She had often sat in this fashion by her uncle's feet when she was young, and Éowyn did not note that habit until now.

How was she to tell her brother Éomer about Faramir? Ithilien was so far from Edoras…. She did not know how she felt about leaving the wild, windy moors of Rohan for the lush green fields and forests of Ithilien. But, I f it was as beautiful as Faramir had described it, she was sure to like it immediately.

_I need to find Éomer a wife_, she smiled to herself.

It was in her silent musings that her beloved Faramir found her. To his dismay, he found her alone and kneeling in either fealty or despair before the body of Theoden lying in wake. The handkerchief in her hand told him that she had been crying, but now as he approached her softly, he saw a strange smile on her lips.

"Are you well, my lady?" he asked. She looked up from her musings and smiled warmly at him.

"I am, my lord." Éowyn stood up with Faramir's assistance and smoothed out the dress and straightened her hair, which was done up in a loose bun with curls coming down the back. She did not notice the flower in Faramir's hand until he placed it in her hair. It was the same kind of flower he had picked for her earlier.

"What is this flower called, my lord?"

"It is called an iris. It reminds me of you." At his words she blushed and leaned up to kiss him. Her kiss was returned in full as his mouth met hers again.

"What are you doing here, my dearest Éowyn? And all by yourself?" he asked with a tinge of concern in his voice.

"It may be strange to you but I wanted to inform my uncle of all that has happened, and I realized also that my brother must rule in his stead yet he is unlearned in the craft of governing. I too was a steward of sorts in my land, when my cousin was not present and my uncle's mind and body lay in ruin by the works of Saruman and his hateful worm. The advisors turned to me, and the people looked to me and I now I fear cannot leave them until my brother is comfortable sitting in Meduseld." She sighed and leaned into him for support, physical and emotional. "Yet yours is the company I am most loathe to leave."

"But I am afraid that you must," he answered. "I do understand that duty which you owe to your uncle and your country. I will wait for you, for as long as you need."

She held him in a tighter embrace.

"In the meantime," he said, "I can make arrangements to repair a great and historic castle in Emyn Arnen, our future home in Ithilien. But we can live in the Steward's House here in Minas Tirith until that is finished." He paused and looked down upon her face. "You understand, dearest lady, that this means we must make closer acquaintance with the King and his future Queen henceforth." There was a tinge of hesitation in his voice.

"I understand, and I willingly will do it," she replied, "if it would please my future lord husband and liege lord. I hear that the Queen is even tempered and very kind. I will not have a hard task befriending her." He smiled as if her words gave him a sense of relief. They then turned back to the Hall of Merethrond where the celebration was continuing. As they were walking, Éowyn paused and said to him, "You have a cousin, do you not? Daughter of Prince Imrahil, and she is fair to behold?"

"Aye, but not as fair as thee, my dearest Lady," he smiled. She rewarded him with a soft kiss on his cheek.

"That is not my point," she smiled. "I hear that she is a woman of good breeding and intelligence. I think perhaps, my brother Éomer and she should make an acquaintance." Her eyes were a bit mischievous at that thought. Faramir understood her thinking and silently praised her for being so wise. He concluded that Éowyn would fit very well in the courts of Minas Tirith. She was a natural.

The couple bowed in respect to King Theoden and left the chamber to join the others where the celebration was ongoing. Immediately Faramir took his leave of Éowyn to find his cousin to spin tales of bravery and valor to entertain her, and most of them would be centered around Éomer. Knowing that her Faramir was already starting to work his gift for weaving tales, she wandered off in another direction to where there were more familiar faces. She was invited by Merry for a table drinking game, but gracefully declined. Then she passed by a group of women surrounding beautiful Legolas and stout Gimli as they were debating as to who actually won their little duel and killed the most orcs, Haradrim, Easterlings or Urukai. Éowyn could not help but laugh quietly at the competetiveness underlying their friendship. They were ever this way. She wondered to herself if such a friendship as theirs would ever be struck again in Middle Earth. She continued to walk among the crowd when she stopped to see someone she did not intend to speak to that night.

Lord Aragorn, now King Elessar, stood before her dressed in his very formal attire, something she was not yet used to seeing as he was almost always the picture of a rugged, slightly worn but experienced warrior. Legolas had explained to her that his name meant "Elf Stone." She did not understand until he approached her now, and Éowyn dropped a graceful curtsey before him, and looked into his eyes. He who was raised by elves, whose blood also flowed in his veins, shared some of their mystery in his eyes. The King was a very impressive man who walked with wisdom and presence of royal lineage and Elven magic in every step. His aura alone was enough to have melted her frosty heart when they first met in Meduseld. Éowyn understood that now. Fate had led her to him first, and but for his rejection of her, she would not have encountered her beloved Faramir.

"My Lady Éowyn. Our graceful Gondorian attire suits you well. I do not recall ever seeing you radiating such loveliness," he said. Éowyn bowed her head in acceptance of such a compliment from the King.

"I confess I barely recognized you in your attire, Sire," she smiled.

"It's rather a nuisance, to own the truth. There are so many damn layers that it is quite difficult to even walk right now. This fur lined mantle itself weighs so much I feel as though I carry someone on my back," he mused. Éowyn laughed. There was still some of Lord Aragorn in King Elessar.

"But you, Éowyn, you are looking much better than I have seen. To look upon you now is as if you were never touched by the Black Breath, and that you have always been whole; though, this is the first time I have beheld such a wonderful sight, you are truly radiant," he marvelled. "What is the source of this new happiness you have found?" Before she could answer, the pipers, drums and lute players stuck up a dancing song, and many were gathering around them to dance. Many pairs of eyes were upon them now. In one graceful move, the king swept Éowyn into the middle of it all, surely the loveliest among the dark haired women in her smooth, bright gown and golden locks. Éowyn knew the steps to this dance, which was a gentle paced exchange between couples.

"Can you not guess?" she asked before she twirled out and away from him to the beat of the music. King Elessar surveyed the Hall as he danced and could not help but notice the face of his steward, now also Prince of Ithilien, staring at them quite intently and without expression. The king had a feeling that the man was feeling more than he was showing. A slow smile spread on the king's face. She twirled back towards him and the king held one hand over hers on her waist and led her with the other hand gently skipping a few steps before she turned to face her dancing partner again.

"I think I have an idea of what, or who I should say, it could be," he grinned. "I am happy for you both," he laughed mirthfully. Éowyn had been rather tense and afraid to speak to Lord Aragorn, now King Elessar, since he returned to the White City. Though she loved Faramir deeply now, she wondered if what she had felt before for Aragorn would resurface. But now, even as her hand was held in his as they spun gentle circles across the marble floor of Merethrond, her feelings had been reduced to only fondness and friendship. She remembered the nights when her heart ached to be with him, to fight alongside him, to kiss him…. But that was when she was still unaware of her heart's true desire, and the meaning of love. She had so admired Aragorn, but now, as they danced together until the end of the melody, it was not Éowyn the White Lady and Lord Aragorn of the Dúnedain who danced, but two entirely different people. They were each a new incarnation of themselves, and having struggled and fought together to be who they were now, still shared at least a friendship in that. The melody ended and King Elessar and Éowyn bowed their heads towards one another. He then offered his hand to her and led her towards Faramir, who was still watching them nearby with the most inscrutable expression on his face.

"I leave her in your care, honorable Faramir," said the King gently, with a smile. Éowyn placed her hand in Faramir's extended palm and King Elessar held both their hands between his own.

"By my honor I will protect her ere after," replied Faramir.

"You have my blessing," said King Elessar. The king inclined his head and left them to mingle with the other celebrants. Faramir looked at her with such a look of concern that it almost made her laugh out loud.

"What is it, Faramir? Why do you look at me in such a way?" she grinned. The starlight in her eyes assured him that she was still his.

"I was afraid that—" he began, but Éowyn placed a hand gently over his lips.

"Ere after, my heart belongs only to you," she responded, and kissed the place where her hand had been. "Shall we dance?" she asked.

"I'm not much of a dancer," said Faramir apologetically. But Éowyn would hear nothing of it and soon they were both twirling and skipping in the middle of all the merriment as if they had always danced together.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter was so short before! I didn't realize how short it was until I read it again, but I wanted it to be a turning point to our heroine patching up what she left behind, and choosing a new path for herself. But before now, I forgot to address the most important thing! To make up for it, I have added a dancing scene in here between our lady and her initial _objecte d'esir_. Tell me what you think. –Kero. (7.13.06) 


	8. With Promises to Keep

Chapter 8: With Promises to Keep

Nearly a month had passed before her brother Eómer made ready with his fairest knights of the Eorl to go to Minas Tirith and collect their beloved former king, who was temporarily entombed with the great kings of Gondor in Minas Tirith. Most of their people chose to stay a while in and around Edoras, so that they might see the cortege of their former king when it arrived.

Éowyn was glad that her brother was quick to learn the ways of governing and proved to be a thoughtful and just ruler. His formal coronation would not be until Theoden returned to Meduseld, but he sat upon its throne and made his judgments upon Rohan, with his sister at his side, and the people were comforted by their joint wisdom and glad that Theoden had taken in these two orphans so long ago.

Éowyn helped her brother choose a new council of four advisors, as her uncle's council was mostly disbanded for following Wormtongue or of the retiring age. She also went out to Helms Deep to count the stores of food there, weighed them, and rationed them out to the nearby villages that were still standing. Éowyn and her brother oversaw the rationing and according to the advisors there was just enough to feed the people of Rohan, whose numbers had greatly diminished in this past war. The people would live near Edoras and Helms Deep for the time being, where food and shelter were readily available. It would not be another year or two when the families would really start heading back into the further regions of Rohan. King Elessar gave a good supply of grain from the stores of Minas Tirith to replenish the reserve stores at Edoras. The advisors mostly oversaw the plans for rebuilding and sewing the crops, and Éowyn made sure that the people were well cared for. It was these troubles in Rohan that Éowyn and her brother faced on a daily basis and her brother, a warrior at heart, was often frustrated by the sheer number of complaints from his countrymen.

"How is one to ever get used to this?" he asked his sister one day, rubbing his tired eyes from squinting too hard at the fine print of a document he was going over.

"Exactly. But it can and shall be borne, brother. You make a fine king," she said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Eówyn. Now I know how caged you must have felt while tending to our ailing uncle and pressed to oversee Theódred's duties in our cousin's absence. But I daresay that our roles will be reversed, dear sister, when you are the Princess of Ithilien and are free to ride out every day into its fair countryside, while I am forced to hear the cause of every villager and messenger who come before me on a daily basis," he rebuked. Her older brother said it with a slight smile turning up the corner of his lip. Éowyn stopped what she was doing and stared at her brother.

"You _know_?" was all she asked. She had never thought her brother clever until that moment.

"Of course I know. As King of the Mark I make it my business to know _everything_ about my subjects, including my own sister. I am not as dull as you think I am, Eówyn," he said, feigning injury.

"Besides, I noticed his not so subtle gifts to you. The dress at King Elessar's coronation was splendid and fitting for a lady of your honor and renown, and I did not think much of it until I realized there was someone behind it who had given you that dress to make sure that you looked absolutely fetching. But how could I miss that beautiful blue mantle you were wearing on the morning we left Minas Tirith? That was certainly Gondorian, and the fact that the kingdom's signature silver stars decorated the lining meant that someone of high authority gave it to you. I know that King Elessar was intended for another, and this has grieved you in the past, so it could not have been he who gave you such a fine and personal gift. You did not seem aggrieved when I saw you again in Minas Tirith and I knew there must have been a reason. But I did not truly suspect until I noticed that you were no longer wearing the necklace that our mother had given you. This was something you would not have parted with willingly." He gave her a smirk as if he was applauding his own cleverness.

"Then I noticed that the one standing next to the king, this Steward, was staring at you quite frequently, though he did not say a word. Then my attention turned to you, and the both of you were exchanging that…_look_."

"What _look_?" demanded his sister.

"You know what I mean," he insisted. "I do not know much about lovers and the ways of courtship, especially in Gondor, but I know the _look_ when I see it. But still, he is high handed this man of Gondor. Lord Faramir should have come to me and asked me for permission to court you before he went ahead giving you things."

"Eómer, be kind! You were not available at the time, and he did take prodigious care of me when I was in the Houses of Healing. If you only knew how kind he is and how generous." Eówyn's voice trailed off and the expression on her face made her brother roll his eyes.

"There you go again, with that _look_…." To this, his sister drove a knuckle in her brother's arm, just as she had always done when they were children, which made him wince. She laughed at the sight.

"I shall ask him personally to accompany the cortege. I think the two of you should be troth plighted here, in Meduseld. You do much honor to your country and its people for staying your happiness, sister, just to help us," he said. She could tell that he was serious and sincere now. "You should have told me then, so that I could have better made his acquaintance."

"I did not want to bother you with it, Eómer, since I was not sure if you would like him. I wanted to come home again, regardless, though, I am sorry to make him wait."

"And why should he not wait for such a prize as the White Lady? In fact, I think you should make him wait much longer, and see how steadfast he really is!" laughed Eómer. His sister gave him a look of indignation.

"Is he better than me?" her brother asked.

"MUCH better," Éowyn laughed.

"Then he deserves you." He pat his sister on the head, a gesture which he knew she disliked, and hurried away before she could injure his other arm.

Later that day, she received a letter from Faramir, and she gave another letter she had previously written for her beloved to the Gondorian messenger before he left. Riders were too few in Rohan, and so she relied solely on the Steward of Gondor to provide the messenger service. The Western calligraphy, as Gondorians had perfected, was a simple written language, and Éowyn could read and write it slowly though she was out of practice. Her beloved's words were very endearing and she wished she were with him so that he could read his letter to her. Of course, this would greatly defeat the purpose of letter writing, and she smiled at her own silliness.

He wrote that he kept the silver horse pendant which she had given to him at their parting close to his heart. These words made her miss him even more than before. When Éowyn had first made the acquaintance of Lady Arwen Evenstar, who was journeying to Minas Tirith to wed with King Elessar, she felt timid and wished that Faramir were there beside her.

Éowyn was uncertain of what she would feel towards the exalted lady, and was mortified at any thoughts of jealousy. Throughout that meeting, Éowyn had Faramir's letters in her pocket the entire time, which seemed to give her strength. In the end, it appears that her fears were for naught, for she did not dislike the lady at all and when they would meet again in Minas Tirith in the future, she was sure that she and the future Queen would not fail in striking a friendship. And though Éowyn was unaware of it, the future Queen was also eager to make the White Lady's acquaintance for she was aware of the valiant deeds of Rohan, for its warriors and its noble princess had greatly assisted Elessar's country and cause.

When the day came for Eómer to return with the exalted company and her uncle's body, Éowyn felt it quite difficult to contain her excitement at the thought of seeing Faramir. And she heard that the Queen and high elves of her kin would also be coming. Éowyn and the servants cleaned the Hall and the guest quarters from top to bottom and furnished them with the finest furs and fragrant wood logs to burn in the hearths. The stable men cleaned out their fine stables and the city's women decorated the Hall with flowers and pine boughs and ribbons. The Men of the March prepared the burial mound and polished their armor for the ceremonial escort for their former ruler to his grave, while the finest bards were called in to entertain.

To busy herself, Éowyn went out into the city on her favorite horse Leód, who was left behind during her temporary enlistment into the army for fear of recognition, and rode in the company of some servants and two guards. She first made sure that the field birds, venison, boar, and chicken were already being slaughtered after the previous day of varied marinating, and that the sourbread and the honeyed bread were being freshly made and baked. Then she sent her servants to the orchards and fields near the mountains to pick fresh fruits and vegetables which would go into dishes that were flavored with a delicate honey sauce her mother had created, poached summer fruits for dessert, or freshly washed and chilled vegetables that could be eaten with seasoned bits of cheese, a delicacy in Rohan. The finest ales and wines were brought up from the cellar beneath the hall for the distinguished guests. Barrels of hearty ale were brought in to satiate the rest. It was Eówyn's belief that Elves were not as fond of roasted meats as men and dwarves were, and had more elfin palettes. She was not certain of this, but she hoped the dishes were to their liking.

Éowyn went to the barracks where the wounded men had been brought and continued her instruction over the healers and servants on making a Gondorian salve that closed wounds faster than any means of Rohan's herb lore. She and the guards then went to the nearest village where many of the war orphans were gathered and housed. Many women had lost their fathers and sons to the battle of Helms Deep, and many children were made orphans by the wild men who plundered the Westfold but neglected to see the children hiding among the rubble. Others were orphaned when their fathers died defending the White City. Éowyn told her brother of her plan to unite the childless mothers with the orphans so that they would have helpers and the children would have homes, while some children could be reunited with relatives, and her brother thought that this was chief among her great ideas. And so they might also share in the celebration, she and the guards loaded wagons of children and headed back to Edoras so that the children could enjoy the feast. These children had known nothing but hunger and sadness in the previous year, but here they will partake of plenty tonight and go home with their relatives or new families. By the time her uncle's entourage could be seen on the horizon by the watch tower at Edoras, Éowyn was feeling quite accomplished and wondered if her uncle would be proud.

Eómer was very surprised when Faramir sought him out at the feast in Merethrond the night before they set out to escort Theóden home. King Eómer seemed to be sizing up the Steward as he spoke to him. Faramir politely greeted him and spoke noble words. However, the point of his conversation turned then to Eówyn, whom he declared was as fairer than any flower or maid he had seen, Human or Elven. And it was then that he told Eómer that he intended to court Éowyn when he saw her again in Edoras and asked that Eómer gave him leave to do so. Eómer stood there, amused at this man who was so obviously in love with his sister. Faramir he could tell was a warrior and a poet, and he was not surprised that his sister had fallen in love with him. There were many similarities between him and Elessar, such as their height, and their dark Gondorian features. Faramir was also a hero among men, for Eómer noticed the admiration in Beregond's eyes, as well as other Ithilien rangers and rangers who had followed this man. And though the people of Gondor were enamored of their new king, they felt the same adoration towards the House of Stewards, which had kept peace in Gondor in the king's absence.

Eómer could not deny the strength of feeling with which Faramir spoke to him about his sister, and being a good judge of men, judged Faramir to be an honest man. He was learned and Éowyn would have much to learn from him, but he was certain that Faramir was outmatched by Eówyn's spirit, and for that, he knew this Steward had to be a patient man. Eómer could not refuse Faramir's request for the other seemed in earnest. It was then that Faramir introduced Eómer to his cousin Lóthiriel and after the introduction, Eómer's attention was much engaged for the rest of that evening.

When Faramir beheld the country of his beloved Eówyn's birth, he was amazed at how vast the countryside was. The plains were green as emeralds and littered with simple golden wildflowers. The capital sat atop a lofty hill, surrounded by high mountain ranges on either side. The rooftops of the houses and Meduseld gleamed gold in the sunlight. The wind here was ever restless, and he thought he understood now the origins of Eówyn's feisty spirit. As they came closer to the city he noticed that many villagers were encamped outside the city, traveling far to pay respects to their fallen king. As the cortege came up to them, they were on their knees, bowing low. Men of the Mark met the group and their honored burden and accompanied Theóden and his esquire to the burial mound, the last in a row of eight on the East side of the Barrowfield. The Men of the Mark gathered round the mound upon their horses and sang in honor of their former King in their old tongue.

Thereafter, a minstrel sadly sang his last and most beautiful tune which he wrote especially for Theóden. Then, when Theóden-king was ready to be placed in eternal rest in his house of stone, Merry placed the king's sword across the Theóden's chest and a shield at his feet. That was when Faramir saw Éowyn step forth from the crowd, dressed in a heavy but regal robe of a dark and rich green, and a long veil of black billowing in the wind behind her that was crowned atop her head with a delicate gold circlet of evenly spaced green stones. Her golden hair was bound up and decorated with several interlaced braids beneath the veil. And the women of the city were all covered in black veils atop their heads and began to weep. Éowyn took a deep breath and her voice rang clear as bells as she sang a lamentation in Rohirric that did not end until the last stone brick that closed the tomb was laid. Then, she and her brother led their honored guests and soldiers to Meduseld for the feasting.

It was here that Éowyn assisted in the ceremony where her brother was officially named as king, and the people of Rohan cheered and sang of the bravery of their lord and king, and his sister the shield maiden. And to this she rolled her eyes at her brother for she knew this was his doing and he had commissioned the minstrel to make up a song about her. When that was ended and Éowyn had turned sufficiently red to the amusement of her brother and all their guests, Eómer called for the musicians and the dancing and the tables in the back were taken away and the benches were left to line the walls. The dancing began as the fiddler's played. And as the ale continued to pour, the dancing and singing and cheering migrated also outside of the Hall and into the city.

She was on her way out of the hall to get some air when she came upon Merry and Pippin who complimented her selection of meats and ale for such a fine dining experience. Gimli was also impressed by the marinated boar and commented it was among the finest he had ever tasted. To her delight and surprise, Legolas thanked her for the bounty of fruit at the table; fresh, preserved, poached and dried. He also commented on the excellent honeyed meats, fruits and vegetables which were much to his liking and Éowyn was flattered. She toasted them all, especially Merry for his persistence and bravery in the face of death and the world's ending, and then took leave of them all and exited the hall. Éowyn was glad to finally leave behind the admiring looks people gave her. Being a sung hero in Meduseld was not quite what she had thought it to be, especially when you usually had to be dead before they sung tales of your glory. That what she had once thought would happen to her; she never thought she'd live to hear her own legend.

She found the evening refreshing and passed the dancing groups of minstrels and people and found a quiet place by a water well to gaze at the stars. Éowyn had not really spoken to Faramir the entire day, and missed his company. But no sooner had she thought this then Faramir was at her side, with an arm slipped purposefully about her waist to draw her near to him. Éowyn smiled and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I was just thinking of you," she said softly.

"My Lady that is such a coincidence, for I was just thinking of you when I saw you exit the Golden Hall. Why did you not call upon me to accompany you out here?" he asked. "Now that I have you I would not let you be alone ever more." He embraced his beloved lady with much contentment.

"I was just thinking the same thing when you joined me, and so now there is naught left I should do but rest here with my head upon your shoulder and sigh in contentment and bliss," she said.

"I would by no means dissuade you from doing this, but I wish, dearest Lady, to pledge my troth to you before your brother and the honored guests in your home." She looked up at him at saw that he was quite serious. "Now?" she asked. He nodded. "In front of all those people?" she asked again. He nodded.

"I want all to know of my feelings for you, and that I wish to make the White Lady of Rohan the Princess of Ithilien," he said. Éowyn embraced her beloved and breathed in his scent which she knew now would forever remind her of _athelas_. "Must we do it so publicly?" she sighed. He chuckled in response. "Ever since you set foot on the Pelennor, my love, you marked your life as a public one."

_My dream was telling me that Faramir was the one who would save me_, she thought to herself, and was content to breathe him in deeply so she would not forget it. Then, hand in hand for all to see, the two walked back into Meduseld to find her brother.


	9. All My Heart

Author's Notes: This chapter is rated PG-13+ for obvious reasons. (wink). –Kero.

* * *

Chapter 9: All My Heart

"Lord Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, why do you come before me?" said King Elessar in a booming voice for all who were gathered in the court of the White Tree to hear.

"To pledge my heart and my love to Éowyn White Lady of Rohan before all witnesses present this day," replied Faramir.

"Then so be it. Make your oaths for all to hear," continued the king.

"To you, Lady of Rohan, I do pledge my troth, my constancy, my life and my love. Lady 'tis you who hold my heart. I ask now that you come to my House and be my wife, my healer and my help mate in all my endeavors. Henceforth I would share my life with thee, so that what is mine is also yours, 'till death, and beyond," said Faramir steadily.

"To you Man of Gondor, I do pledge my troth, my constancy, my life and my love. 'Twas you my Lord who saved me from my darkness and discovered my heart. I come now to be your wife, and all oaths of loyalty do I swear to thee and bind myself to thee and thine House. And now and henceforth I would share my life with thee, so that what is mine is yours, 'till death, and beyond," said Éowyn steadily.

A page dressed in the livery of the House of Stewards came forth with a large box lined in velvet. "To you, White Lady of Rohan, and now my wife so fair to behold, this emblem of my house I give to you, and do hereby crown and declare thee Princess of Ithilien," said Faramir, crowning her with a beautiful silver circlet of hammered leaves and sapphires. She lowered her head gently and her golden hair fell to either side of her face as he slipped the crown securely onto her head.

"My pride, my honor and my duty is bound with Ithilien and Gondor ever after," replied Éowyn .

"Faithful Faramir of Gondor, Steward and Prince of Ithilien, and valiant Éowyn of Rohan, Lady and Princess of Ithilien, I have heard your oaths and they are acceptable to me. The sight of you brings me much joy, and may you two go forth now bound by your love ever after, and let all of Gondor and Rohan rejoice in this blessed union."

At the king's final words in the ceremony, the crowd cheered and roared with praise and adulation for their Steward and his new bride, with whom they were still awestruck since the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. The handmaidens around her threw white petals into the air, which caught on the breeze and flew in every direction. Éowyn 's beauty was different from that of their Queen, for Éowyn was filled with sun and shine, characteristic to her home of sunny plains and fair weather. The White Lady had a warm smile for all who looked upon her. She was human and yet she was legendary for her valor. It was a joy to see their beloved Faramir with such a woman; that such a woman could see and enjoy the goodness of their Steward.

Faramir was nothing like his father, who, though revered among Gondorians even after word of his madness got out, was colder and more unapproachable. Faramir was a brave Captain of men, learned and gentle, and with eyes that could see through any dark scheme or mischief. He had eyes like his mother, whom the people still remembered and were remorseful and sad for her passing. She had not done well in the tall stone walls of Minas Tirith. But Éowyn 's light was so radiant, it was impossible to think it would be diminished by these walls. They were all hoping she would shine like a bright jewel in the City, a comfort to Faramir's lack of immediate family and company now. The people were eager to learn more of the Steward's wife, who seemed more approachable than the new Queen, who was Elvish, and so mysterious to them.

Éowyn was dressed in a light blue silk gown embroidered with silver stars over a white tree over the Steward's Emblem on the bodice. She would name this her "attire of state," from this time onward. Silver lace peeked out from under the hem and her sleeves as she walked. Faramir's gift was draped over her shoulders in a regal fashion, and it was clasped by a chain of silver stars. Her hammered silver leaf crown glittered in the sunlight, and the stones glowed like little bulbs of blue fire. The newly crowned Princess of Ithilien had coiled her hair in a bun with the rest of it cascading down her back entwined with blue ribbons and thin braids. She was a sight to behold for she shone as fair as the sun. The Steward and Prince of Ithilien escorted her down the dais steps as the people cheered. The proud smile on his lips told all.

The couple followed the king and the queen into the great hall of Merethrond where the other noble guests would eat and dance and be entertained. In the streets, the people were dancing and singing for it was declared a holiday in the City and no work would be done. Faramir first gave thanks to the Valar for this blessed feast and this day, and then to the King and Queen for their generosity in organizing and sponsoring the celebration, to King Eómer for granting him such a treasure to brighten his life, and last but not least, to their hobbit guests and the noble members of the Fellowship present. The guests clapped and cheered and the feasting began.

Gimli and Legolas were among the first to approach Éowyn and Faramir and give them personal greetings and blessings. Gimli gave Éowyn a beautiful bracelet, wrought of mithril and silver, shaped like a delicate string of leaves and flowers. To Faramir, Gimli gave a ceremonial battle axe and offered lessons in axe throwing. Legolas gave Éowyn a necklace of sapphire and mithril, to match her crown and bracelet, and to Faramir, an Elven long bow, which the Prince of Ithilien greatly appreciated. In fact, he spent much of the rest of the night speaking with Legolas, learning more about Elves, and delighted in the fact that Legolas and some of his people were thinking of moving out of the Forest and into Ithilien where they could be of better aid to the King.

Next came the hobbits, giving their gifts of pipe weed and ornate blown glass vials and jars filled with scents of flowers and sweet herbs. Éowyn spent much of the night with Merry and his kinsmen, listening of their tales of the Shire, their long heritage and the recent nuptials of Samwise Gamgee and Rosie Cotton, both of whom were unable to attend since it was their honeymoon. Also, the Ringbearer was unable to attend due to recent illness. But they sent their blessings, which were received with pleasure. Pippin and Merry were about to tell the Princess about Treebeard and the defeat of Saruman and Wormtongue when they were all called to dance by King Elessar and King Éomer, visibly drunk. Éowyn rolled her eyes at her brother and decided to join him if only to prop him up. To her surprise, she was joined by Lothiriel, cousin to Faramir, who also felt concern for her brother. Giving a sly smile, Éowyn entrusted Lothiriel with her brother and told him not to drink any more, words which he did not heed.

Éowyn sought a quieter place by a window sill in a corner of the Hall that was scarcely populated. She glanced up to see the full moon beaming brightly above. _So, you are dead then, Wormtongue,_ said Éowyn to herself. She sighed as if a great weight had suddenly lifted from her heart. There was no power left in any of his words. She was now Princess of Ithilien, and had never been happier in her life. She looked around at the gaity that surrounded her and a slow smile came to her lips. In the midst of all the dancing and the shouting, Éowyn then felt someone beside her, when she thought she had been alone, and she turned to see her husband, to whom she had not spoken a word since their marriage ceremony.

"I'm happy to see you again, my lord husband. I was wondering if we would speak to one another again tonight," she laughed. "We have both been so preoccupied.'

"Yes, I believe we have not spoken since we exchanged vows this morning. I'm afraid everyone wants our attention, my love, else I would have been at your side sooner. I have missed you in every moment we have not spoken," he smiled. Éowyn leaned in closer to him and he kissed her brow. Faramir's way with words had a tendency to make her ankles weak.

"You shall have plenty of time with me later," she blushed. Faramir did not reply, but when she looked into his eyes there was a sense of longing in them. She smiled and blushed even deeper. Then, several other court members approached and whisked them away in different directions so that truly they would not speak to one another again until later that night.

Faramir, King Elessar, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, and King Eómer walked up the stone steps of the street towards the Steward's House laughing loudly as they walked past the guards. Each in turn had some advice to give to the newly wedded Prince and Steward. Dancing and singing were still going on in the streets below and would most likely continue into the dawn.

"And do not forget, the women folk are always right," laughed Pippin.

"And that's even when they're wrong," joined in Merry. "But Lady Éowyn is as fine and gentle a woman I have ever known. I doubt she will insist upon being right all the time…at least until you disagree with her," he chortled.

"Aye lad, and that's the key to any marriage," smiled Gimli. "The gentle sex will give us joy and comfort to the end of our days but only if we treat them kindly."

"And with respect," added King Elessar.

"And in such a union may you two be blessed," smiled Legolas. He then added in a whisper, "And when in doubt, Elven poetry never fails, I'll see to it that several volumes are sent to your new estate in Ithilien."

"Thank you all for your advice," laughed Faramir, rather embarrassed at having such a conversation. "I'll be sure to come to any one of you when I am in need of further advising."

"Please don't," laughed Gimli. "I believe the only other married man here is Aragorn. I wouldn't trust the rest of the advice you're getting right now, lad."

"Keep me out of it, I do not wish to know," laughed Eómer. "Whatever my sister does to you ere after is your own fault for marrying her," he joked. In good humor, he and Faramir clasped hands, and Eómer took his leave at the base of the steps of the Steward's House. King Elessar put one hand on his steward's shoulder, "I wish the both of you bliss henceforth. Just be certain you are not late for the midday meal the Queen has invited the both of you to three days from now. I can give you three days alone, but after that, your services will again be needed at Court." Faramir bowed as the King departed. Legolas, Gimli, Pippin and Merry also took their leave, patting him on the back and giving him last minute advice.

When they all departed, Faramir found himself alone on the front steps of the Steward's House. The windows were dimly lit, as some of the servants were still awaiting his return, and others were probably tending to his bride as he stood there. Taking one deep breath, he walked up to the door and opened it. He was immediately greeted by one servant who took his cloak and his adornments to be put away. His crown was carried away on a velvet pillow to retire with the Steward's other princely artifacts in a vault below the house. The house was mostly quiet as the servants had already retired to their quarters. With a candle to light his way, Faramir walked up the stairs to the dimly lit hall where the sleeping quarters were. Several guards stood at attention in the hallway. Just as he approached, his cousin Lothiriel, Queen Arwen, and several court ladies in waiting exited the nuptial bedroom. The Queen nodded in greeting and Faramir bowed low.

"She has been waiting for you," said the Queen gently. She smiled and took her leave. The ladies curtsied to Faramir and then followed the Queen back to the Citadel.

Faramir entered the bedchambers and closed the door behind him. The room was dark except for the moonlight shining through the windows. Éowyn was sitting on a velvet sedan in front of the balcony doors, which were open to let the night breeze come in, shifting the curtains gently, as well as the dressing gown she wore. The dressing gown was loosely wrapped around his wife, so that he could see her graceful figure in silhouette. Faramir was almost overwhelmed with the urge to go to her immediately and carry her to bed. This was certainly not his first time with a woman, but it has been a while since he'd shared his bed. Still, he was not nervous or anxious at all as he stared at her silhouette. Éowyn was his wife now, and there would be much time to enjoy her in their years to come. He would do this at her pace, since he was certain this was her first time.

"Éowyn ," he said gently.

"Yes my lord?" she asked in a small voice.

"You are more lovely to me now than in all the day's finery." He went over to her. "May I sit with you?"

She looked up at him demurely and replied, "Of course."

Faramir sat down next to her and slowly gathered her in his arms so that her head was resting on his chest.

"Something on your mind, beloved?" he asked her gently.

"Yes and no, Faramir."

"What do you mean, Éowyn ? You must tell me or else I will be forced to guess," he smiled.

"I want to tell you how happy I am to be here as your wife. The more I know of you, the more I love you. I have further made my acquaintance with the Queen as well. This has brought me much relief for I do really like her. It is a great consolation to me since I will be spending more time with her, for I am afraid that your duties will keep you away from me sometimes. I am fearing that now. I only want you to know that I enjoy being useful, and if there is anything you need me to do as Princess of Ithilien, I would gladly do any task for you Faramir."

"This I know, Éowyn, my beloved. I am aware that you are my help mate now, and I will take every advantage to have you close to me at all times, rest assured of that." She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight.

"I have never been so happy, Faramir," she said. "I want to be near you always."

"I am about to make you happier, dearest, if you will permit me." He pulled back and gently kissed her brow, her eyes and her cheeks. Faramir noticed her breathing had become uneven and he advanced further to kissing her neck. His lips had found a sensitive spot by the nape of her neck and suddenly Éowyn gasped a little from the sensation that shot through her. Her grasp on his shirt tightened. He picked her up in his arms and took her to their bed.

"Darling Éowyn, I shall be gentle," he professed as he undid the laces to her dressing gown. She giggled as his fingers undid the ties over her stomach.

"Do not--not there! I am ticklish there!" she laughed. He proceeded to kiss her side and she could not help but laugh out loud. Soon they were both gently laughing their shyness away. He continued up until he found her breasts and she gave a gasp as he proceeded to suckle them. A delicious moan escaped her lips. Faramir then lay on top of her kissing her neck and face gently.

"Please, do not stop, my lord," she whispered.

"I do not intend to," he replied. A breeze came in through the open doors and blew out the only candle lit in the room, allowing the couple to proceed through the night in the darkness.

Éowyn stirred and awoke in the dark. The moon was high now, but some of its light was still shining through the open doors of her balcony. She turned her head and saw Faramir sleeping soundly beside her. He was sleeping on his stomach and he had a blanket draped loosely over his hips. His bare skin glowed pale and smooth in the moonlight and it caught the waves in his black hair. She stared at his beautiful naked form, every sinew and muscle reminding her of his strength. And strength he had for they had spent over an hour in their love making. It was certainly not as painful as everyone had made it out to be. Faramir was very gentle with her, and very skilled. So skilled in fact, it made her blush to think back on it. Where had such skill be learnt? She wondered if he would be this passionate with her every night. If so, Éowyn felt herself the luckiest wife in Middle Earth. Still unclothed, she sidled up next to him and started kissing his arms and back. He began to stir. Éowyn continued until she woke him.

"Éowyn ," he smiled. "What are you up to? Can you not sleep with me in your bed? Shall I retire elsewhere?"

She laughed softly. "I was sleeping actually when I woke unexpectedly. I am sorry to have awakened you, my lord. But I could not resist."

"What could you not resist, dearest?" asked Faramir. He rolled back on his side and drew her closer to him, nuzzling his lips against her neck.

"I could not resist kissing you, my love, as you slept. You are so beautiful in the moonlight," she whispered.

"As are you," he replied, pulling off the blankets to reveal her naked form and he slowly settled on top of her body to make love to her again.

Faramir awoke with the sun's light in his eye. He recalled the passionate night he had shared with his new wife and looked around the room to observe the aftermath. His clothing was strewn across the floor, and her dressing gown was nowhere to be seen. The blankets on their bed were twisted about and most were on the floor. He was sleeping on his side, and Eowyn's head rested on one arm. He nuzzled his slightly whiskered chin against her smooth skin. She stirred and opened her eyes. A warm smile greeted her in return. She whispered his name and curled her body into him, her warm breath on his chest.

A warm sense of belonging overtook him. In his arms was his wife; a woman who loved him regardless of anything, and she was a woman he could love for the rest of his life and would die to protect. She too was passionate in bed, much to Faramir's surprise. He was afraid she would not enjoy their first night together but it seems that he made her very happy. She had also made him very happy--happier than he could remember ever being. Faramir gently stroked her long hair, flowing and undone from all the previous night's ventures. He hoped that he could be a good husband to her. He wanted to stay in bed with her throughout the next few days, but she would probably not consent. Faramir would still, however, ask her later when she was awake. As he was thinking this, he noticed that her eyes were open, blinking at the sight of a scar on his chest.

"What is it, love?" he asked gently.

"How came this scar upon you, Faramir?"

"It happened in my early years as a Ranger of Ithilien. A pack of orcs surprised us. We had ill fortune that day." He sighed. "Many friends died that day."

"It could not have been so very ill. You lived through it. I am convinced that you are a great captain of men. I see it in the eyes of the Rangers you spoke with last night. They would follow you to any end," she said with a hint of pride in her voice. Then a frown reached her lips as he traced her fingers over several other scars on his side and on his back.

"You have bled much for Ithilien. It was just of the King to give you the title of Prince of Ithilien. No other man would be worthy of it. I am eager now to see your Ithilien, my love," she smiled up at him.

"And you will. Things in Ithilien grow wild and beautiful, just like you," he said, bending down to kiss her brow. "You may do whatever you like there; I would not have you feeling caged in our new home."

She kissed him on the lips in thanks.

"I will do my best to make you happy, Éowyn , though I cannot promise I will the perfect husband," he confessed.

"You make me happy just as you are, love. And if I were to know all your faults and imperfections, I would love you still the same," she smiled and kissed his cheek. Her words touched him deeply and he gathered her in his arms and held her close. Thereafter, the two were content to stay embraced in bed for much of the day.


	10. All My Duty

Author's Note: I wanted to be realistic. No matter how romantic a couple can be, marriage is something different. I wanted to see if Faramir and Eowyn would make a good match in the afterward, the story that Tolkien didn't write. There are tons of great stories in here that I've read from other very talented people.

I have yet to read a horrible Eowyn/Faramir fic and I know I've read at least fifty by now. I love all the stories that tell about their afterward. It's not all fun and games being Prince and Princess of Ithilien, but she and Faramir are very skilled warriors, which is why I think Aragorn placed them there to begin with. Rather strategic and shrewd of the king, I might add to give them the buffer zone. Enjoy! –Kero.

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Chapter 10: All My Duty

Éowyn surveyed the land before her as she sat atop her horse on a tall hill facing the Castle at Emyn Arnen. Nearly a year had passed since her wedding day, and she and her handmaidens were only recently allowed to come live at the newly remade Castle at the foot of the mountains. Faramir had made certain that his wife be given free reign to decorate the Castle as she saw fit, for she was head of his household. But no matter how pleasantly decorated the inside of the Castle was, Éowyn was aware that the high wall and splendid mirthril enforced gates were as much there to keep people inside as it was to keep enemies out. Word had gone out that small bands of orcs had been spotted along the borders of Ithilien. Her husband had gone out with his newly assembled band of Rangers to seek them out and she was told that he would be home in a few more days.

Éowyn tried to see as much of her husband ever since their honeymoon was over. Sometimes he would be overly busy as his occupation as Steward of Minas Tirith, and other times he would be busy as Prince of Ithilien. This did not bother her as much as she thought, for she took pride in knowing that her husband was working hard to keep her and their home safe in the name of the King. She often traveled with him to the capital. If his work deprived her of his presence, she would then go visit the Queen. But there were times during the day spent, after she enjoyed doing many of the things she loved on her own or with Queen Arwen, that she would feel a sudden twinge of longing to behold her husband's beautiful gray eyes.

He did however keep true to his word and give her plenty of tasks to perform. She oversaw the decorating of the Castle at Emyn Arnen, received visitors from Minas Tirith and beyond, and oversaw the building of the garden and its beautiful fountain designed by their Elven neighbor Legolas and his kin. She also quartered the wives, relatives and children of her husband's Rangers, now numbering nearly one thousand. The Castle at Emyn Arnen was as much home to her as it was a large township. Many had come to settle in fair Ithilien where the soil was fertile. Including refugees from her own lands, who had lost everything they had in Rohan, and desired to start afresh elsewhere. They were more than happy to go with their White Lady and her new home. Newly built houses inside and outside the wall could be seen from her standpoint atop the hill.

Éowyn was proud of their accomplishments here, but still, she would rather her husband be at her side as she governed Emyn Arnen. He would come back to her as often as he could spare it, and she was glad for his efforts, even if the time they spent would not last past a fortnight. Faramir was always very attentive when he was home, and they spent many hours of the night talking in bed rather than sleeping.

Recently, she had been startled awake on several occasions when her husband began experiencing nightmares. Éowyn could only guess that the dreams had something to do with his final charge for Osgiliath, the renown charge of her husband and a band of loyal followers, including many Rangers who begged Lord Denethor to give them leave to follow Faramir, and the sudden loss of all these brave men and friends, save Faramir. Éowyn had lived with men of battle all her life, and she knew the effects of physical pain and the death of loved ones could have on the hearts of the soldiers who returned. She wished that she could go with him out on patrol, if only to give him comfort and whatever healing she could provide his heart. Éowyn had suggested this to her husband. This of course was out of the question, as her husband feared for her safety even when she went out riding within sight of the Castle. Since her days as warrior shield maiden were over for the most part, she did not insist upon it.

Éowyn no longer pined for the glory of battle and the renown of victory. She had had enough songs sung about her already, many of them so glorified her that she could not help but blush. Even the children in the streets sung them. Renown was no longer her wish, though she had it in abundance. Instead, she found more earthly delight in accompanying her husband on an early morning ride and survey of the Castle grounds, or lunching with him under the gentle shade of a tree in their garden. Éowyn loved to converse with her husband and delve into his knowledge and experience. He was such a good story teller. But there would be times when he would fall silent, and a wave of melancholy would pass over his expressions. These were the times that she knew he needed her most, if only just her company in silence. She would reach over and squeeze his hand and it would make him look her way, away from his gloominess. To her, it seemed as though he was grateful for her presence.

She knew that his childhood had not been very happy. His mother died when he was young and he had very little memory of her. His brother loved him, but he was often separated from him because their father groomed the elder for succession, and neglected the younger. This was when he developed a love for books and literature, as the characters he imagined in his mind would not judge him as his father often did. Denethor was very severe with Faramir, and much of what her husband told her made her angry at the man, though he was dead. Éowyn knew that her husband was not telling all, but she did not press him about such delicate matters.

Faramir looked up to his brother Boromir, who, in his eyes, could do no wrong. This sort of idolatry she felt was healthy for him as the younger, more impressionable ages, because it made him strive to be better. She did not say this to Faramir, but she found her husband to be a much better man than his brother. Her husband's quiet demeanor and modesty, his accomplishments and the constant battering from his father forged him to be strong of heart and mind. This perhaps was his saving grace that prevented the Ring from taking over his soul. Ironically, Denethor had raised his favorite son to rule in his stead as the next Steward, but unexpectedly raised the other son to defy the power of the Ring, which in the end made the most difference.

This upbringing did however take a toll on her husband, especially after the death of both his brother and his father. She knew her husband was a solitary man before they met, but he relied on the support of his brother, and lived for any kind word from his father. Éowyn soon understood that she had a major role to fill in his life. She needed to provide nurturing to him, for he grew up a lonely boy without the love from a mother. Éowyn also knew that she had to support him in everything he did, as Boromir had, and make him see his own worth when he could not. As his wife, she also knew that he often looked for her approval, much as he did from Lord Denethor. He would not actively seek it, but on a more subtle level she knew he did, and this meant that he discussed all matters of duty with her at length. She was glad to be included in this.

Éowyn wondered what his life would be without her, and she would shudder at the thought of her husband continuing a lonely existence. She often wondered if it was the circumstances of their meeting that spurred him to attempt to court her. Faramir did not seem the type of man who would be so bold with women he did not know. Perhaps her golden hair was a sight to see among the cold stones of Minas Tirith. And her husband, ever the lover of poetry and all things beautiful, was spellbound by her sadness and her golden hair. Whatever beauty she had, and her husband was still very intent on reminding her that she had it in abundance, Faramir seemed completely enamored of it, even now.

On this particular day, her hair was tied back in a silver ribbon, and a slight breeze picked up her golden locks. Accompanied by two of her personal armed guards, Garin and Beleth, Éowyn felt quite safe atop her hill. It was spring time and the flowers had come out in full bloom. Ithilien was indeed a great and marvelous land. Faramir was telling the truth in his descriptions of it, and Éowyn fell in love with this land as well. It was different from the grounds surrounding Edoras. The grassy plains were much to her liking as they were perfect for riding very fast and very far, to the chagrin of her personal guards. They could not dissuade the princess from doing what she wanted, but they were careful not to let her out of their sight. Should anything happen to her, they would face the wrath of Lord Faramir, something no one in their right mind would look forward to, for he was so revered among all the guardsmen and soldiers.

Dressed in her fur lined riding cloak and dark blue riding dress and shiny black riding boots, Éowyn looked every inch the proper princess. If she had her way, she would wear men's britches but she would not willingly shame her husband so. Now that she was Princess of Ithilien, she needed to keep up appearances, and she was wise enough to do so for the sake of her beloved. She appeared very graceful to all who beheld her that morning, and very few noticed that she still carried a sword underneath her cloak whenever she rode out without her husband, and a shield with the emblem of the House of Stewards hanging opposite a short decorative Rohan spear on her saddle. Her black leather riding gloves held the reigns on her lap as she continued to survey the horizon.

"Something troubles you, my lady?" asked Beleth.

"Indeed," replied Éowyn . "Spring has come nearly one month past now, and I thought I saw the birds fly cross the sky a few days prior. Yet today, I see no birds. Not even the small field birds who make nests in the grass. "By all accounts they should be everywhere by now. Have the farmers reported anything amiss? Wolves? An abundance of foxes attacking chickens?"

"Nay, my lady. There have been no reports of orcs, or of people or livestock missing," replied Beleth.

"All the same, my lady," said Garin, "I would not have you tarry here long. We should return to the Castle soon. Lord Faramir gave strict orders that you were not to go out riding until he was certain it was safe."

"Faramir is being overprotective. I obeyed his order until now, and I am restless with being inside so much. Even he would understand that. The councilors have not even brought the weekly reports in to me yet, so we have time," she smiled.

"Where is the trading caravan that is to come today, I wonder?" asked Beleth, also searching the horizon.

"I do not yet see them on the horizon, but surely they should have been here when the sun rose?" said Éowyn . She pondered her words and looked down the western road. As if instinctively, she urged her horse in that direction in a quick trot.

"My Lady, I must protest," said Beleth.

"As do I, your Highness," joined Garin.

"Then protest along the way," replied Éowyn , urging her horse to make haste. Both her guards followed after her down the road.

Faramir returned at dusk, as a light rain started to fall over the plains. His rangers rode beside and behind him, all were weary from hunting orcs. They were somewhat successful in dispatching of a handful of orcs but Faramir knew there was a larger group still roaming about. Reports from villagers have come in that sighted them near Emyn Arnen. He was glad to have sent word to the Castle to dissuade his wife from riding out, as he knew she loved to do. It pained him to give the order as he was not keen on caging her like a bird. She was a wild and free spirit, and he knew she would not be happy if she was always kept indoors.

But, Éowyn often stayed in the garden where Faramir had planted many irises to keep her company when he was away. Faramir pictured her among the flowers and it made his heart stir. He was very eager to see her beautiful face again.

"_Éowyn , what are you doing there?"_ Faramir had asked her one morning shortly after they had just moved into the Castle. She was kneeling on a blanket in a fine velvet gown atop new sod.

"_This sod is a gift from our Elven neighbors. They said that anything will grow in it at any time_," she replied. "_Even out of season_."

"_And so, I ask you again, beloved. What are you doing there_?" asked Faramir with a grin on his face. His wife was wearing gardening gloves as she dug into the dirt and he knew she was trying her best to keep from being soiled, but a smudge of dirt had found its way to her face, which in his eyes, somehow made her more endearing.

"_I am planting these flowers out of season, obviously, darling_. _My handmaid showed me a picture she had sketched of them last season. They have pretty silver bulbs shaped like little bells. I hear that King Elessar will have you patrolling Ithilien soon, until you find the marauding orcs. It comforts me to know that these little flowers will be here to keep me company when you are away. Their color reminds me of your eyes_," she said with a smile. He knelt down next to her and kissed her deeply. It was the little things that she did that seemed to increase his passion for her. He often blessed his good fortune for having come across such a woman.

He and his company stopped short when they came upon the outer town. The lights were dark and no one was about. The Rangers murmured amongst themselves uneasily.

"Something is not right here," said Beregond in a low voice.

"Where are the people?" asked another.

"They've sounded the alarm," said Faramir steadily. He urged his steed forward in a gallop towards the Castle. His first thought was of Éowyn . Was she safe? The image of her standing in front of the fireplace in their living quarters came to his mind. Her hair caught the glow of the flames in her golden locks. It was the last conversation they had before the departed with his Rangers. They had just supped together and were preparing to go to bed.

"_How long will you be gone?"_ she had asked.

"_Only a fortnight_," he replied He looked up at her face half expecting to find disappointment. The last thing he wanted was to have her feeling disappointed with him, her husband. What he saw there was not disappointment, but a serene expression that was difficult to read. He went over to her and took her hand in his.

"_Are you disappointed_?" he asked.

"_Nay, I am not. Your duty is to King and country, and that makes me proud that you are my husband. But my only concern is for you. Will you be all right_?" she asked. Faramir looked at her and knew that she was asking about his mental state. He had been having nightmares since he first knew that his patrols would be resuming. It was not always necessary for him to go along with his Rangers, but he found that strong leadership would strengthen morale among the ranks. He needed to know he could trust these new Rangers, even when he was not with them. But it had been a long time since he had carried a sword. Most of his nightmares dealt with that last charge across the Pelennor. Faramir was a little ashamed that his wife had so quickly seen through him to find his demons. Éowyn on the other hand was more understanding than he expected. He was amazed that she still loved him just the same as ever, even knowing that he felt anxious to lead men into danger again.

"_It is only natural that you should feel this way_," she explained. "_Your life as you had known it disappeared in that War. It will take some getting used to peace, but it will pass, my love_. _You are a strong man and a great leader of men. Everyone knows this. I have no doubt that your skills will accomplish the deed to be done. My only concern is that I will not be with you when you wake up alone. But keep my pendant close to your heart and I hope it will give you comfort. And know that I will be here, waiting for your return_."

He blocked the memory from his mind, to focus on the situation before him. When he approached the outer gate, he called out to the tower watchmen. His voice did not sound like his own. It sounded worried and a bit desperate.


	11. All For You

Author's notes: Faramir is an excellent warrior. I'm not sure this is portrayed well enough in the books. But, since his wife did save the White City with her uncle in the Battle of Pelennor Fields, I think it's his time to return the favor. –Kero.

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Chapter 11: All For You

"Prince Faramir, is that you?" asked one of the watchmen.

"Aye, open the gates. What goes on here, man?" demanded Faramir. The bustle of feet and chains and cogs were heard behind the gate and it slowly pulled open.

"We have raised the alarm, my Lord," said another watchman.

"I can see that. What has happened?" asked Faramir, still calm. The watchmen were suddenly uneasy and could not meet his eyes. The captain of the Castle guard came forth hurriedly, and knelt down on one knee before him.

"Forgive us, my Lord. We have called the village people inside the walls because we feared it was not safe. Orcs have been sighted outside on the plains. A young girl rode into Emyn Arnen this morning. She was traveling with the market caravan that comes from the West. She reported that they were surprised by a large band of marauding orcs and her companions were slain or wounded. She herself was badly hurt. She was saved by…." His voice trailed off and the captain hesitated.

"Do not hesitate, man, tell me everything," said Faramir, sensing something was terribly wrong.

"The girl was saved by your wife, Lady Éowyn, Sir. Lady Éowyn had gone out early this morning with Garin and Beleth to survey the outer defenses and to keep a look out for the caravan, last I heard." The man was bowing very low now, out of guilt for not being able to stop the princess from going out today. He dared not look at Faramir's face as he spoke. Those of his Rangers who knew him better knew that he was sorely upset at the news, though he made no sound. Already they saw that his mind was set to work to find a way to retrieve his wife.

"The Lady must have happened upon them suddenly, and she sent the girl to return on horseback to raise the alarm in Emyn Arnen. We sent two groups after the princess and her two guards, back in the direction where the girl last saw them. But they reported no sign of the Princess or the caravan. That was many hours ago. They continue to search the plain for them. And now it has started to rain…" blurted out the captain. He face was heartily ashamed at the news he had to report to his Lord. Without another word, Faramir turned his horse about and galloped out onto the Western road. His Rangers followed suit and raced after him.

"I am sorry to have gotten the two of you into this," sighed Éowyn . "I should have retreated to get reinforcements before charging out." Her arm was still bleeding a little from when she was pushed to the ground by an orc flying out of nowhere. They were all huddled in a nearby cave for warmth and to hide from the remaining orcs. Though there were only about twenty left, for Éowyn and her guards had dispatched of the other half, they seemed tireless, and well armed with arrows. Of course, they had nothing else to lose. Without a country, they wandered about unwanted and hunted. Theirs was a desperate situation and they were capable of anything, just to survive. Éowyn had tried to save as many of the caravan as were left, and she had about eighteen in the cave with her, including women and wounded. She knew the orcs were just waiting for them to come out, and she knew that they would be slaughtered by raining arrows and she would be helpless to stop it. Beleth was not badly hurt, but Garin had suffered an arrow in his leg and was feverish due to the poisons of the Black Breath. He had only recently passed out from fatigue and the works of the poison.

"Nay, my Lady. You did what you thought was best at the moment. We had no idea that the orcs would be so close by. And so many of them…" he faltered. Many in the caravan were slaughtered mercilessly and he shuddered to resist bringing the image to the forefront of his mind again.

"Foul creatures. What are they doing in Ithilien? If our roads are not safe, then our people will not feel safe to travel and this will affect Gondor if word gets out that we are unable to patrol our own borders. Faramir is Prince of Ithilien. I could not let these foul creatures sully the land my husband so dearly loves," said Éowyn with flint in her voice.

She calmed herself with a sigh. "But now we are stuck."

"'Twas better that we tried to save them sooner than later, my Lady. They may not have survived the attack if we left them. And they had not the means to outrun them for many are wounded," said Beleth.

"Your are indeed a valiant Lady," he said. Though he had just recently been ordered to guard the princess, he found her character impressive, just as the tales sung of her. She was wise and brave beyond her years.

"I would follow you to whatever end."

Éowyn looked in his eyes and smiled at his honesty and stout heart.

"I am glad you are with me then, Beleth." She drew her wet cloak around her though she knew it would not give her warmth. "There must be something we can do…a diversion perhaps?" Éowyn pondered a plan.

"What would your Highness propose?" asked Beleth.

"I'm not certain," replied Éowyn honestly. "Garin is not well enough to fight or run. Only some of the caravan are still able to defend themselves. I would not wish to leave the women and wounded behind to fend for themselves if the orcs do not take the bait. Yet we must send word to the patrols that I know are nearby, looking for us. If only Faramir were here," she sighed. A lump caught in her throat at the though of never seeing him again. His letter told her that he would not be back for a few more days. She was certain that under these circumstances, she would not last that long.

"I would go, your Highness, but I also am loathe to leave you unprotected," said Beleth.

"I will be well, Beleth. Besides, someone must look to Garin and the others. It might as well be me," she replied.

"We are better off waiting then for the patrols to find us. I will not leave you here, my Lady."

"Garin will die if he does not receive the proper care. I cannot do this without the proper herbs. Many of these people will die of cold or of their wounds or both if we do not get them safe and tended to. Our efforts will have been for naught. Please Beleth, you must go find help," Éowyn said solemnly. Beleth hesitated for another moment and then left the cave.

Faramir and his company rode hard into the darkness and rain. They passed by the first patrol and he issued orders for them to search a wider circumference. But if his wife and the others were not caught, and somehow he felt that she was not, they would need a place to hide. Southwest of the road were a cluster of hills and a dry ford and some caves. Faramir knew this area well. As a ranger for many years in Ithilien, he was very familiar with all the places to hide. If Éowyn had a group of people in tow, she would find shelter for them. And the orcs would be waiting for her. The thought of his beloved wife trapped in such a situation boiled his blood and pained his heart. He blamed himself for not finding the orcs and killing them all first to spare her this ordeal. He also blamed himself for issuing the order forbidding her to ride out of the Castle. Faramir foresaw that she would willingly defy such an order. Faramir hoped that he would find her safe and unharmed. He was pulled suddenly from thoughts of his wife when one of his rangers spotted the caravan and the dead bodies strewn about the road.

"They could not have gotten far, there must be more people who are alive and probably wounded. We will split up. Beregond! Take half the men and go search the dry ford. There is much brush there that is good for hiding. I will take the rest and ride to the caves!" said Faramir, calling out to the rest of his Rangers.

"My Lord! Someone is approaching!" called out another ranger. Beleth had reached the prince's party at last. He was badly wounded.

"My Lord, you must save the Princess! She is at the caves near the ford. I went to get help but the orcs must have seen me come from that direction. Lady Éowyn ordered me to go find help, even as she was defending the mouth of the cave. You must hurry!"

Even before Beleth had finished his last sentence, Faramir charged in the direction where he knew he'd find Éowyn . His Rangers followed suit and soon there were upon a distressing scene. Several of the merchants were armed with swords and they were doing their best defending the women and the wounded. Garin was also on his feet, though unsteady, and he stood with Éowyn off to the side. They were back to back and Éowyn was in part helping to keep him steady. They were encircled by a group of orcs.

"Éowyn!" cried out Faramir and he charged in her direction first. Drawing his bow, he expertly notched an arrow with graceful fingers and let it fly. The arror hit the orc closest to his wife square in the chest. The others turned around to see a very determined Faramir charging at them on horseback. Several moved out of the way to avoid his wrath. Of these, Faramir dispatched a few more with several rapid shots expertly aimed. His horse trampled the other orcs to pave the way to her and he leapt off his horse, drew his sword, and started dispatching the rest of them. All were focused on Faramir now, but with very quick and swift movements, not one slash or footfall wasted, they were all dead or mortally wounded in less than five minutes. His wife, who had never had the opportunity to see him spar with the enemy, was truly impressed.

"Faramir!" cried out Éowyn partly in astonishment that he was there, and partly in awe of his attack on the enemy. She knew that many of them had pikes and was fearful that her husband may be wounded. But to her relief, he was not and after killing the orcs in front of her he and several other Rangers pushed the remainder of the orcs, now already in retreat. He was at her side again in an instant. Without another word to her, he pulled her aside and mounted his horse again, helping her up in front of him. He quickly set his horse to a canter away from the fray, leaving Beregond in charge with instructions for the Rangers to find and kill the rest.

Soon the skirmish was over and the Rangers piled the orc carcasses in oil and set them aflame. They herded the remaining caravan merchants back onto the caravan wagons and had their horses pull them to the Castle, picking up Beleth along the way. They sent a fire arrow up for the other patrols to join them and all three companies returned safely to the Castle. The others reported no other sightings of orcs, and no survivors of the marauding party.

Faramir would not let Éowyn out of his sight even after they were safety within the walls of Emyn Arnen. He helped her dismount his horse and then called out for servants to tend to the wounded. Faramir personally escorted his wife into the Castle and to their living quarters, followed by a train of worried servants and hand maids. They followed the couple back into their personal apartments and helped Éowyn out of her soiled clothes and drew a hot bath for her. Then Faramir excused them. For a long while, they were alone in their silence. She gingerly washed herself free of the day's dirt and lamented that her gown was probably beyond repair. But what bothered her most was her husband's silence as he sat before the fire, blue-gray eyes flickering in the light. Putting on her dressing gown, she went to his side silently.

"You must be terribly angry with me, for you have not said anything but my name since we first met tonight," sighed Éowyn as she stood before the fire to warm herself, finally breaking the silence.

"Do not mistake my silence for anger, though I am angry that you disobeyed my order to not ride out today. First and foremost I am relieved beyond measure that you are safe now," he said. She looked over at him, slumped in a chair in front of the fire, still staring into the flames. He looked tired, but relieved.

"I am sorry, Faramir. I did not mean to cause you grief. I was very surprised and relieved to see you come for me," she said quietly. "I did not think you would come as you were not expected back for another three days."

When he offered no response, she went on, "I could not watch them be slaughtered and there was not enough time to get help. Perhaps it was foolish of me to think I could save them, but I could not let it stand," she paused. "Although I did not intend that I would need rescuing later on," she laughed, without mirth. "That was a miscalculation on my part." She looked over at him and still he was slumped in his chair, motionless.

"Please speak, Faramir. I cannot stand for you to be angry for so long," she said, rather pleadingly. In their brief married life, he had never shown her this side. He looked at her for a moment, then got up from his chair. He stepped closer towards her and in one movement gathered her up in his arms, holding her close. She thought that he was trembling.

"I am not angry with you. I am only sorry that I did not find these orcs earlier and kill them before they came so close to you," he said quietly. "As your husband and Prince of Ithilien it is my duty to keep you safe."

"Faramir, you could not have known. Who else will defend Emyn Arnen in your absence if not your wife who is Princess of Ithilien?" she smiled. "They did not call me a shield maiden for nothing."

"I would prefer that you stayed out of harm's way, Éowyn ," he replied, kissing her temple.

"I know. By the look on your face when you rescued me, I understand why you will not take me with you on patrols. You are not yourself when you know I am in danger. I would hinder you," she sighed. He held her tighter as if to apologize for being so protective of her. But she sharply drew in her breath and gasped a little from this movement. Faramir drew back and looked at the blood dripping from her left hand.

"Éowyn, you're bleeding!" he exclaimed. He sat her down and rolled up her sleeves for a closer look.

"Was this done by an orc?" he asked, worried that she might be poisoned.

"Nay, it occurred when I was tackled to the ground by some flying fool of an orc. I knew not that they'd grown wings," she smiled. Her smiled faded and she bit her lip in regret when she saw his eyes full of worry again. _Perhaps I should not have said that,_ she thought regretfully as the pallor on his face grew pale and his expression very stern.

"It does not hurt, dearest! Really! No bones are broken! I just scraped myself against some rocks, that is all. It just needs a good cleaning and some bandages and I shall be right again," she added hastily.

Faramir tended to her arm himself, cleaning it, applying the salve and binding it gently with linen. Éowyn was touched that he was so attentive. This was ever his gentle nature. But he looked very tired, though he would not admit this to her.

"Let's go to bed, love. You and I both need rest now," she suggested gently. He did not protest. She helped him out of his boots as he took off his tunic. After giving him a towel and the wash basin, she remarked that he looked much better than before, if not much cleaner. When he lay down, Éowyn then rested her head on his shoulder as he held her close.

"I have worn you thin tonight, my love. For that I am sorry," she sighed.

"Do not be sorry," he whispered.

"Do not blame yourself for this, my love. You had no idea it would come to pass like this. Yet still you managed to save me from a very close encounter…. I know that I am safe when you are near. I have never seen a more impressive warrior aside from our King. The moment that you are unable to protect me is the moment before Death takes you, and in any case, I would rather be with you at a time like that than not," she sighed.

"Éowyn," began Faramir.

"I know, dearest," she said. "I will not insist upon accompanying you everywhere. But know that I cannot willingly be parted from you, Faramir. Not even when Death comes for you," she finished. Her husband held her closer to him.

"Silly woman," he chided. "Why do you love me so?"

"Need you ask?" she replied. "You are my love and my joy; I would do anything for you."

"Even jump into a fray of marauding orcs?" he asked resignedly.

"Of course," she smiled.

"Please do not do any such thing again. I cannot bear the thought of you being in danger," he said quietly. "My heart cannot take such shocks."

"As you wish," she sighed.

"My blood almost drained from me when I realized that you were not here at home when I arrived. I could not survive this world without you now, beloved, please understand that." At those words, Éowyn wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fully on the mouth. He returned her kiss and held her closely to him. "But I am happy that you take such an interest in Ithilien."

"I love Ithilien because it is fair, and because you love it."

"It is no wonder that I love you then, dearest Éowyn. My Éowyn," he sighed. His wife was so wonderful; it gave him comfort and warmed his heart to know that she loved him so. He was soon fast asleep, basking in the glow of that thought.

Éowyn watched his sleeping face in the candlelight, a pastime she delighted in. As his wife, she felt that she was his healer and protector now, defender of him and all he believed in. In her mind, this held as much importance as being a shield maiden of Rohan had been before she had known him. It seemed ages ago that she took on the name Dernhelm. How long ago was it that she struck down the Witch King? It seemed Ages ago. Her life had taken several unexpected turns, and her reknown was almost embarrassing nowadays, but she felt very lucky in life. She could not have planned it to end so well. Éowyn brushed a lock of his hair from his face and gently kissed his cheek. Then, nestling herself in the crook of his arm, she too drifted into a peaceful, well-deserved sleep.

_Finis_.

* * *

Note: WHEW! Finally finished. Yeah, I had to finesse Faramir's methods of fighting. I thought and thought about it and the critics were right. Faramir's fighting skills rock. He is afterall a descendant of Numenor. But, I had to laugh a bit. It isn't one of my stories unless there's fight scene. LOL. As for my titles as completed, the poem should read as follows:

REBIRTH

Out of darkness  
Into awakening  
I stand on the precipice  
I bring thee healing  
With a handful of flowers;  
A new beginning  
A new love  
With promises to keep;  
All my heart  
All my duty  
All for you.

Hope you enjoyed it. Until next time! --Kero (7.5.06)


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